Looking back on my life, I can't see it as anything but a heinous joke—a stage where I am the villain, the evil that prevented the protagonist from reaching their goal.
Ironic since I used to think of myself as a hero.
I pushed myself beyond limits, breaking bones and sweating blood in the process. I fought harder than anyone to become the strongest and made all the right decisions, even when it meant enduring pain, even if it was cruel.
I did that because I believed it would be enough; I thought it would bring happiness to me and everyone I loved.
I was mistaken. The person I cared about the most did not respect my worth, my hardships, or my effort.
Now, standing in front of this crying woman, all I can do is clench my sword, withholding this boiling, murderous wrath that is gnawing every corner of my mind, trying not to slice her head right away.
With buildings smashed into rumbles and trees split, uprooted from the very soil they belong to, the only thing left in this sepia-stained world is a destroyed landscape.
The ground is covered in debris, cracking as though it were about to collapse; dust from the battle has clouded the air, almost suffocating. The destruction of a once-bustling town is what I witnessed; it should be tumultuous and chaotic, but all I can feel is quiet.
Everything around me is enveloped in an eerie silence, as if the world itself has chosen to hold its breath in fear.
There is nothing and no one, besides her, bold enough to confront the storm raging within me.
She stands there, a breathtaking vision of beauty, with hair that glimmers like the ripe golden heads of barley wheat swaying gently in the breeze. Her eyes, a striking shade of blue reminiscent of the North Star, captivate me and seem to hold a galaxy of secrets within their depths.
Theresa Ludmila—that was her name.
And she had betrayed me.
"I hate you!"
"I have always detested you, Roland; I disgusted your gut. Every time I see your face, I just want to rip it apart and feed it to swine!"
With tears cascading down her anguished face, she unleashed a primal scream, her voice thick with raw hatred directed squarely at me.
Each word pierced my heart like a sharp dagger, shattering not only my heart but also the dam that had held back my boiling anger for so long.
The woman I loved so much was screaming, telling me how much she detested me and how much she disgusted me, all because of a man—the man who was cut down by my blade.
Renauld Gisil Kylian—a name I haven't heard from for so long, so long that he was believed to have died in the war.
A traitor who has deserted his own family, causing them to perish, torn apart by demons and violated beyond recognition, a living scum worthy of nothing more than death.
Why? Why do you love him, Theresa? I gave you my love, my devotion, and my everything. I even saved you and your parents from the fate of a slave.
You were given everything a human can ask for, and yet you still betrayed me and sided with this trash bag.
You disappointed me, Theresa; I thought your love was genuine, thought there would be a happy ending for us, but I was wrong.
You don't see me as a human, as Roland, but just a figure you can use to further your goal.
"Unforgivable, you filthy, ungrateful whore dare to betray me?! You thought I was a pushover for you to use?" Unable to contain my anger any longer, I exploded, hurling insults at Theresa that I reserved for adversaries.
I, Roland Gisil Kylian, simply cannot put up with this nonsense or this breach of oath. Evil, antagonist, or villain; people can label me all they want.
But I will not let this betrayal slide; I must slice those two apart.
Yes, I would kill them.
So I charged up my blackened blade. With a deep breath, I unleashed my most powerful technique, summoning the crimson mana that surged through my fingertips like a living flame.
As I channeled this potent energy, it coalesced into a swirling vortex around me, illuminating the dim surroundings with a blood-red glow.
The air crackled with lighting, and a palpable dread filled the atmosphere as the mana radiated a terrifying aura, distorting the very fabric of reality. I could feel the silence of this desolate place shattering around me, as if the weight of an oppressive stillness that had lingered for far too long was finally being torn apart.
My creation, Vermilion Nova—the technique that was powerful enough to bring the war to a close.
"No, you can't be joking, right?" The blade gleamed ominously and radiated a horrifying pressure, a terrifying testament to its power, which had claimed thousands of lives.
Theresa stood nearby, her breath hitching as she took in the sight, her leg quaking beneath her as if it might collapse at any moment. I could see the fear etched across her face, the way her eyes darted between the weapon and me, searching for reassurance.
In response to her tremulous question about whether I was joking, I offered her nothing but a cold, deadly glare that seemed to slice through the air—an unspoken message that made it clear I was far from joking.
Theresa, if you have decided to reject my love and betray me, then I will treat you the same thing you have done to me.
There is only debt to be paid, no apology, and no turning back.
"Roland, please spare us." Once again, she looked at me with that puppy eye—the eye that tricked me into doing her bidding and begging. I truly detested it.
"I'm begging you, Roland, please don't kill us; please, I don't want to die."
Like a maggot, she crawls on the shattered ground while sobbing. She sobs, attempting to evoke my empathy and the love I once felt for her.
Seeing her in that state, I want her to vanish, to disappear from my memory.
Oh, how painful it was to witness the one thing I had ever desired in life become such a pathetic mess, such a piece of shit.
Truly regretful.
This love, truly, was a mistake. You shouldn't have existed in my life.
"Goodbye Theresa."
My eyes were closed, and the blade was released.
With a thunderous roar, a cataclysmic explosion erupted, resembling the birth of a star in its ferocity. A blinding flash illuminated the surroundings as waves of energy radiated outward, ripping apart the very fabric of reality.
The air transformed in an instant, swirling into a seething mass of pure plasma, its vibrant hues of crimson and violet crackling with an otherworldly intensity.
The ground shook violently beneath the power of the blast, sending debris flying and creating a maelstrom of chaos that obscured the horizon.
As the attack unfolded, I felt the mana vanishing, the blazing shockwave, the deffening knockback, and the complete destruction it brought.
Indeed, they ought to be atomized into pure mana and wiped out at that point.
Yes, I should have killed them.
But... Theresa and that scum were still alive; I missed the shot.
Why? Why can't I bring myself to do it?
Why did my hand tremble at the last moment?
Why didn't I finish this for good?
Is it because I still have feelings for them?
That must be the case, right?
I don't understand nor am I capable of processing the action of mine.
Perhaps the betrayal alone is not enough to erase the attachment, the emotion, and the memory I had for so long.
Or perhaps I am just weak and soft, still hoping that she lied. But of course, I knew what hatred looked like. She was loathing me to her core.
"Dammit." Uttered a sour comment: I cursed myself for this vulnerability, for this bothersome sensation, and for the version of myself that was still hopeful.
Turned away from this ruined place, I left behind the cousin I once held in such high regard and the woman I used to love, with the hope that I would never see them again.
***