Chapter 126 - The End Of War, Part 2

"I..." Michael started as he inhaled sharply. This was it. Someone was onto him.

And something inside Michael told him he could no longer deny it.

But other than that... He felt like it wasn't worth it anymore.

So, he finally let it out before Van.

"I didn't just cooperate with Bernard,"

His voice was quiet, yet heavy. He shut his eyes, recalling the way Melanie had looked at Van—the way Van had saved her life back at the manor.

Slowly, Michael's eyes reopened. Lazy, but no longer erratic.

"I was the one who... branded them." He spoke evenly.

Van studied him, his expression unreadable. Michael's voice was steady now. No more stammering. No more hiding.

"…Bernard was the slave master, though." Van replied flatly. Michael could feel it. Almost like he gave Michael a chance to rethink his words.

But he knew that this isn't something he could run away from. Nor something he wanted to run away from anymore.

"He was." Michael took a deep breath. "But he was the one who gave me the slave crest to brand them… which I did. Fully knowing what it was. You can say he manipulated me... But that's just an excuse. It's my fault."

He swallowed hard. The next word felt like poison on his tongue.

"I believed that I was their…"

His stomach twisted.

"…Master."

Van looked down.

Inhale.

Exhale.

He rubbed his face with his palms.

"... Why did you do it?" Van asked calmly.

"With all due respect," Michael bit his lips as bubbling frustration began to surface, "why do you ask me why?" Michael voice started trembling, Van's gaze snapped back to Michael.

"I deserve to DIE." His voice cracked. "I hurt Anne. I hurt Lizzy. I DESERVE TO DIE. You're..." He gulped. "You're strong enough to kill me quickly, right? Do that. Please." His eyes welled with tears.

"... Just tell me why you did it." Van repeated.

"Why do you want to know!? WHY DO YOU CARE ABOUT ME!?" He nearly yelled.

"I'll stop caring if you keep asking me that, and not answer my question." Van said, his tone equal; though his eyes seemed to faintly glow with a warning.

"..." Michael swallowed his tears, cleared his throat, his eyes becoming erratic again before steadying.

"... Because of you... No... Because of me." He finally rasped.

"I... I thought... No, I WANTED to believe that you were doing something to Anne and Lizzy. Anne was never so quick to bond with someone, and the way you were at Lizzy's house was suspicious... She seemed so... Focused on you after that, too. You had to have done something to them."

"...."

"But that's what I just told myself," His shoulders loosened, Van's gaze turned more attentive at his statement. "The truth was... They just grew tired of me, and I was too scared to admit it... Just like my mom and sister were when they left me and my father.... Late father."

Van stood up, walking around the room rubbing his face again. Recalling what Bernard did when he left him alive, even for a few moments longer than necessary.

He glanced at Michael.

'Do I kill him?' He wondered. 'If I keep him alive... Forget why he did it, he might just do it again.'

'No, calm down.'

'I'll just tell it to Marcy.' He shook his head slowly. 'He'll be imprisoned, probably for life.'

'... No. She'll kill him on the spot.' He thought, recalling how Marcy didn't hesitate to kill Bernard, brutally.

'Wait, why do I care?' He thought as he looked at Michael, the story about his sister and mother leaving him and his father dying replaying in his mind.

'That's his problem,' Van tried to convince himself. 'Considering how I haven't seen the Duke's wife around, who's to say Bernard didn't have a mother that left him?'

'Right...' He thought as he looked at Michael.

'I care because I see myself in that boy.'

'But still...'

He breahted deeply.

'He has nothing to lose. Which makes him dangerous...' He saw Anne and Lizzy's face, and the way Michael almost got away with it, if it weren't for Michael's terror when Van took him with him, Van would've found out.

One more, violence. Terror was the factor that helped him find out that Michael was a perpetrator.

'At the very least, I'll be merciful.' His gaze darkened.

'I'll kill him here, myself.'

—SOME YEARS AGO—

"I deserve to die, Magus." Van muttered, staring at the ground, his body beaten, covered in mud, sitting like a dog in the corner of a jail cell.

"It was an accident, Van." Magus replied, sitting just outside the bars. "You didn't mean to kill that woman."

"An accident," Van scoffed. "I just HAD to show off."

"Had to," he repeated, exasperated. "Had to prove they could trust me. That I could protect them. That I could be relied on. But instead, I—"

"LOOK, IT DOESN'T MATTER!" Magus snapped, leaning in. "I'll free you. I'm the HERO. I can pardon you. And we'll be on the road again."

"No." Van shook his head, lips pressed tightly together.

"...What?" Magus frowned.

"Let me be hanged, Magus."

"Fuck. THAT." Magus spat.

"LET ME BE FUCKING HANGED—" Van yelled.

"NO, YOU DON'T GET TO FUCKING CHOOSE!"

"LET ME HANG! YOU DON'T GET TO CHOOSE FOR ME EITHER!"

The words clashed in the air, their voices overlapping—until silence settled between them.

Van exhaled, his voice softer now. "I can come back, Magus."

Magus' expression hardened.

"So please... let me be hanged. I... I WANT to be punished for it. At the very least." Van inhaled shakily. "I'm... used to it, aren't I? We'll be back on the road either way, won't we?"

Magus clicked his tongue, his hands balling into fists. Without another word, he stood, turned his back to Van, and slammed his fist against the bench.

"Fine. Choke to death for all I care, you motherfucker. Enjoy the noose."

Magus spat the words over his shoulder before storming off.

-------------------

Van exhaled slowly, his gaze locked on Michael.

"Kill me."

The words cut through the silence. Van flinched.

Michael's voice was hollow. "No one cares about me. Lizzy and Anne will tell the truth when they wake up. My father and mother are gone… I've got no one." He sighed. "Kill me. Please."

Van's fist clenched. '…There's no choice.'

No version of this ended with Michael walking free. Van wasn't going to hide what happened. Wasn't going to cover for him. 'I do want to keep them safe. And either way, what waits for him outside this room… is death.'

His steps were slow, deliberate, as he moved behind Michael.

"Fine."

His palm settled gently against Michael's neck. Michael tensed—then relaxed.

"T... Thank you..." His eyes drifted shut.

Van's fingers tightened. His muscles tensed, ready to snap his neck. But then—

"Stop."

Van froze.

"...Van."

Two voices. One completing the other. Behind him.

"Mika. Rika."

Van exhaled, still keeping his back to them. 'I was so focused on him, I didn't notice… Even with my perception so high. I guess I can still slip if I'm not attentive enough, huh?' He sighed, relieved.

"We don't know what happened yet that brought you to this, but…"

"... let him go."

Michael pressed his lips into a thin line, his heart twisting at their words.

"Why?" Van asked, his expression remained unreadable.

"If he did a crime that warrants death, then let him run…"

"... with his loving mother and sister, at the very least."

Van's eyes widened. Michael turned, faster than him.

He looked at the two assassins—then beyond them.

Two fragile figures stood there.

Michael's breath caught.

"M...Mi...chael...?" The voice was soft, trembling.

Michael choked on his words. It couldn't be.

The mother who had abandoned him. The sister who had left with her. Standing there. Looking at him.

His fists clenched, his confusion and longing swallowed by the rising surge of rage.

"DO YOU THINK I'LL FORGIV—"

Mika moved swiftly, pressing a gentle hand over Michael's mouth.

"Listen to what they have to say."

Van stepped aside, arms crossed, watching.

Michael swallowed hard. Mika lowered her hand.

His mother's voice was unsteady. "We never meant to leave you, baby..."

Pain shot through him, a jagged wound reopening.

"...We were... enslaved."

His sister stood beside their mother, clutching her cloak.

Michael's breath hitched. His face went pale. He lowered his gaze.

Then, the truth spilled forth. Every word. Every horror.

Michael and Van listened in silence.

Van frowned. 'So they were freed after I killed Salem… Fuck. I didn't stop to think there were more out there. He had Mika and Rika—so of course, he had a network.'

His fingers curled into a fist. 'How many more had he broken before I smashed his skull? Sick fuck.'

Again, violence.

Michael's mother hesitated, then took a step forward. "T-that's why... Michael. We don't care what happened to you. We're here now..."

She reached for him, her fingers trembling. "And I... missed you and your father so much—"

Michael slapped her hand away.

"Then, this time, leave me for real." His voice was raw.

"Michael...? Please, baby... we're here now..." Her voice softened.

His sister, standing weakly, glanced at him. Her gaze softened too.

"...Father is dead."

His mother stiffened. His sister gasped.

"He died earlier today."

She staggered. "Oh... Oh... Mikey..."

Her voice cracked. She looked at him—the son she had lost, now returned to her in the worst way.

Then she ran to him. Hugged him. Held him tightly.

Michael's eyes shut. He felt her warmth.

.

He felt unworthy of it.

'Goodbye, Mom… for real this time.' He pushed her away.

"Don't do something you'll regret," his voice wavered. "I'm… I'm going to tell you something, Mom. So… save that hug for someone who deserves it."

Van flinched, watching him.

Michael took a breath.

"I… enslaved some girls here. Made them my slaves."

Van's eyes narrowed.

"You know them, actually. Lizzy and Anne."

'Fuck.' Van internally scoffed. 'You got to it faster than I did with my little secret. You got some balls, I'll give you that.' He observed Michael carefully.

'Now, let's see if these people will take it as kindly as mine did.' His thoughts drifted to Amoria's acceptance.

'After all… she had every reason to hate me for it. But all I saw in her eyes was love… That's…'

'Rare, right?'

For a moment, he forgot his surroundings.

Michael's mother took a shaky step back. "N-no way… What are you saying?"

Mika and Rika paled. His sister, too.

But Michael kept talking.

"The reason I'm detained is because of that. As proof, I know how it looks." His voice rasped. Then, he described the crest. The words he used to brand them. He let it all out.

Then he looked up. "Well? Still want to hug me, Mom?"

Silence.

For a moment, a sliver of hope slipped through.

But it shattered.

His mother's face—skeptical at first—now twisted in fear. His sister mirrored her, wide-eyed. They stepped back, as if his words had cursed the ground they stood on.

'Haah... I really have nothing to live for anymore.' Michael thought as he took in his mother's expression. As if she looked at a murderer. A monster.

Probably how Lizzy and Anne would look at him if they saw him.

'I deserve this.'

Mika and Rika then turned to Van. Their eyes filled with wrath and bloodlust.

"...Okay, Van. You can kill him..."

"...Or... we'll even do it for you."

Their voices were grim. Their hands steady.

Van exhaled through his nose as Michael looked down.

"Kill me." His voice echoed.

His mother's hand twitched. For a moment, she reached for him. Then, as if his words burned her, she recoiled.

"As you..."

"...Wish."

Mika and Rika moved, knives drawn. Certainty in their eyes. They made sure that he could hear their steps. That he knows exactly when his end comes around.

Michael smirked bitterly. 'Guess I'll be seeing you first, Father... Nah.'

A dry chuckle escaped his lips. 'I'll be going straight to purgatory for what I did. Eternal torment—that's all that's waiting for me.'

His eyes fluttered shut, resignation settling into his bones.

Yet, as the darkness closed in, cold dread surged through his veins. 'Eternal torment... suffering forever. No, no, no—I don't want this. I can't—I won't!'

His body curled instinctively, teeth sinking into his lips until blood dripped onto his tongue.

'NO... NO... NO!! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! I DON'T WANT TO SUFFER LIKE THAT! NO...!! NO!! FATHER, HELP ME... I DON'T WANT TO GO TO HELL! ANYONE...!'

Then—

"...What are you doing, Van?"

Michael's eyes snapped open; and he saw how Van stood between them. A solid wall of flesh and steel.

Michael gasped.

"What did you say?" Van's voice was steady, sharp. "No matter what crime he did, I'll let him run away, right?"

He turned his head slightly. "Let's do that, then."

"...!!!"

Michael's breath hitched. "I— I D-DON'T DESERVE THIS! LET ME DIE—"

"SHUT." Van's voice sliced through the air.

Michael froze instantly, while Mika and Rika's gazes grew cold.

"…That ship has long since sailed. Scum like him…" Mika began.

"…deserves to die," Rika finished.

Their mother flinched again, visibly shaken at the thought of Michael's death. Her own son, the child she'd longed for, was now facing execution. Yet, no protest arose from her lips. Her throat closed, paralyzed by a mix of anguish and understanding.

She knew this punishment wasn't unwarranted. She knew, intimately, the scars Michael had inflicted—scars identical to those branded onto her soul.

But even so...

She couldn't say he deserved this fate. She couldn't bear to witness it either.

So she remained silent, eyes shut tight, lips pressed together in quiet torment, refusing to witness her son's final moments.

Van inhaled deeply, then broke the tense silence with his next words.

"I married the Demon Lord."

He lifted his chin, holding their gaze firmly.

"This is—"

"Hardly the time for jokes," the sisters chimed.

"I'm serious," Van affirmed sharply. "She is my loving wife." He stepped forward confidently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "The same woman who slaughtered thousands of humans—she's mine. I courted her for two years before arriving at the capital, and she finally said yes."

He paused, letting the truth sink in before continuing.

"I'm not trying to diminish your suffering. But if you're prepared to kill Michael simply because he did what he believed was right, yet you're willing to let me walk free—even though I knowingly did something you consider unforgivable, something I take pride in…"

Van's eyes sharpened.

"…then you'd better try and kill me too." His voice was calm, unwavering. "You've already repaid your debt by returning my armor and sword, haven't you?"

The sisters grimaced, a heavy silence lingering as they scrutinized his expression, searching desperately for any hint of deception. They found none. He meant every word. Not even the faintest trace of jest marred his sincerity.

Only then did it dawn upon them: this explained his connection to Varlog—and clarified precisely why demons had come here.

To aid their ally.

"You really…"

"…really are…"

"…scum," they whispered in unison.

Van didn't flinch. Instead, a grin spread across his lips as power hummed through the air around him.

"Fuck you too," he replied playfully.

They froze in confusion, their bodies momentarily paralyzed as he stepped closer, waving his fingers before their eyes. With a single motion, the thick cloud of pink mist swirling around their heads dissipated into nothingness.

Their hands trembled as awareness returned.

"What have…"

"…you done to us?" they asked, panic rising in their voices.

Van watched their shaking closely.'This confirms it. Each reacts differently… I'd better finish quickly. They're unstable.'

"I've lifted Magus's mind control from you," he stated plainly. "I'll do the same for Marcy, Lalyn, and their children. So cut me some slack until then. Afterward, feel free to hunt me down all you want."

Without waiting for a reply, Van turned back to Michael.

Michael sat frozen, staring blankly ahead—his thoughts tumbling wildly.

'Magus…? Mind control…? Marrying the Demon Lord?! I don't understand… W-who… Who the hell is he?!'

Van's voice snapped him back to reality.

"Kid."

Michael flinched.

"You're coming with me."

Michael swallowed hard. "Why… are you help—..." Michael stopped himself.

Van raised an eyebrow impatiently. "Weren't you listening? I just said I married the Demon Lord. Who am I to judge you for doing what you thought was necessary"

"B-but… Marcy killed Bernard!" Michael protested, voice breaking. "I DESERVE..." He stopped himself again.

Van didn't deny it.

"She did. You do."

Van replied coldly. "This is purely my selfishness."

He grabbed Michael by the shoulder firmly—and vanished.

The sisters stood frozen in stunned silence.

"Where did…"

"…he go?"

Their mother's trembling voice broke through softly, barely audible.

"…Michael… Come back… I'm… sorry…"

Yet deep down, she already knew the truth.

She would never see her son again.

----------

"Haah... Where... are we?" Michael gasped, collapsing onto the grass. The capital lay kilometers behind, now just a distant blur on the horizon.

"Somewhere you won't be prosecuted," Van replied flatly, his voice unreadable.

Michael stared silently at the ground, catching his breath. Finally, he let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"Thank you," he murmured softly. "Just… Thank you."

Van raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I expected you to beg me to kill you again."

Michael managed a weak, somber smile, shaking his head emphatically. "No... NO! I don't want that!"

He nearly shouted it, startling himself. Pausing to steady his breathing, he took a moment before continuing quietly:

"My mother and sister are safe now." He exhaled deeply, looking up at Van. "They hate me for real this time. All this time, I thought they always had—but it was just because some scumbag enslaved them. Now they're free, and I can finally see real hatred in their eyes."

His fingers dug into the soft earth beneath him, releasing a bitter chuckle. "Is this irony?"

Michael's eyes focused on the blades of grass gently brushing against his fingertips. He felt strangely calm despite everything.

"But… now that I think about it, I don't want to die. I don't want to discover if purgatory is real, because if it is—that's exactly where I'm headed. And that terrifies me."

He swallowed hard, finally meeting Van's eyes.

"I'm genuinely in your debt. Even if by some miracle I was forgiven, I couldn't bear facing Lizzy, Anne, or Melanie ever again. And the thought of rotting in prison… I'm terrified of that too."

Michael slowly pushed himself to his feet, shoulders weighed down yet posture firm.

"I'm a coward," he admitted quietly. "It's about time I stopped pretending otherwise."

With a sincere, steadying breath, Michael reached out his hand toward Van.

"Thank you, Van Hellix. I'll… make the most of this second chance."

Van stared thoughtfully for a moment, lips twitching into something close to respect. He chuckled quietly, grasping Michael's outstretched hand firmly.

"Try not to die too quickly, alright?"

Michael nodded earnestly, the resolve shining in his eyes.

"I'll try. I really… really will try. As hard as I can."

And then, he turned and walked away.

The fresh air crashed against his face, the scent of freedom both intoxicating and cruel.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

And as he stepped forward, alone, he let them fall—mourning the people he could never return to.

Crying into the arms of the wind.

[SIDE NOTE: I'm considering a Michael spinoff in the future, Inspired by Kingdom Come: Deliverance! Let me know if you'd be interested. It would be more of an underdog story. No overpowered protagonist this time. :)]

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