Chapter 105

Cyrus's POV

A large explosion of power erupted from my father, but my thoughts and gaze were instantly drawn away from him as Lord Enzo finally turned to face me.

"Uncle… It was you the entire time. This can't be. Why… to your own family? To my mom… why?" I yelled, as blood bubbled up into my mouth, slurring my words.

"I don't expect you to understand now, but you will soon understand why it had to be done."

"There is never a reason to kill innocent people. Especially when they are your loved ones. Never." I continued my verbal onslaught as I tried to free myself from his blade. He didn't fight my escape; he just looked at me with regret and pain.

"Then why didn't you kill me that day, Uncle, huh?"

"You are different. You see the world from the same lens I do. You know there is more. You were the only one worth preserving," my uncle said as the expression on his face changed. It took on the same expression it always had whenever he was trying to teach me an important lesson—firm, yet radiating with love and compassion. The expression confused me, because how could someone who had a great deal of love for me cause me the most pain?

I wanted to feel the rage. I wanted to act on my bloodlust, but my body was paralyzed by pain. The wound of betrayal was something I felt I could never escape. The rejection from my home, Arthenos. The rejection of my Fate Constellation. The betrayal of Adam, and now from my beloved uncle. The universe was cruel for putting me through this.

My wound from his blade was starting to heal, but slower than normal. Looking at his blade, I understood why my father was having a hard time. My uncle had the power of two Fate Constellations. He currently was in possession of two of the most powerful Constellations that this Earth has seen. The perfect counter to the Solaris. Now I understood the fear of someone like Malakar.

Words were no longer able to be formed. Imbuing cosmic energy into my body, I prepared to fight to the death. He was my uncle, but how I see it—my uncle died several years ago. There was no redemption for what he did. He had to die today, and if my father needed help, I was going to aid him. With my body coiled like a serpent, I lashed out with my blade.

Like before, he dodged everything—not even attempting to parry or strike. "Let it out. I get it. I knew I would have to face this at some point. I'm sorry I hurt you, Cy."

"Don't call me Cy. Don't call me anything. You don't get the right to," I yelled back, desperately trying to land some form of strike. I used everything—all the knowledge and experience I had gained meant nothing here. Even the attempts at using my ability barely had any effect. I was nothing in this moment. I was helpless. I was weak compared to what was before me. My goal was so far away from my reach. I didn't know what hurt me more—the wound, the betrayal, or the fact that I was failing and letting everyone down.

"Cyrus, stand down. It's okay. I'll take it from here." My father's voice echoed through the mountain range. My father was expelling a large amount of cosmic energy. The pressure alone was enough to force me to my knees. The look on my uncle's face tightened up and discarded the look of regret and sorrow. His body was trembling—a reaction he couldn't control.

"Incredible," the words fumbled out of my mouth. Above my father was a projection—a semi-tangible body that took on his image and likeness. It was regal and ethereal. It mimicked every step and nuanced tick my father had, but it was adorned in garb meant for war.

"Doesn't look like you can hold that form for long, little brother," my uncle said as crimson orbs started to form in his hands.

"I won't need much to finish this. Now leave, Cyrus." My father's voice echoed again. I did as he asked, but from a space where I could be of use if need be. In an instant, the avatar of my father came crashing down on top of my uncle, burying him further into the mountain, splitting it in half. There was no emotion on my father's face. He didn't move from his spot. The avatar did all the work. The avatar was twenty meters tall and it was ruthless.

In response, my uncle flew out of the cavern that was just created in hopes of retaliation, but there were clear signs of damage. His mouth dripped with blood and it seemed like one of his arms went limp. I didn't know how many attacks he would be able to withstand. Whatever my father's avatar was made of, it seemed to bypass the layer of cosmic energy instantly. Whatever the damage was, it seemed to be done internally.

With his back against the wall, my uncle kept his distance. He forewent his blade and transformed it back into a bow. Hundreds of crimson arrows littered the sky. "Condense," he yelled out next, and every arrow fused together to form one large crimson javelin. The energy that came from it was enough to blow the city of Gavelon to dust. I knew that much.

I looked towards my father. There wasn't a single bit of acknowledgment that came from his body. He was still and passive, and his eyes glowed with the radiance of the sun. I couldn't help but wonder if this was what true power was like. To have enough power to not even be bothered by an attack like that. My father was truly scary.

The release of the crimson javelin shook the entirety of the sky as it hurtled toward my father. All my father did was simply raise a hand, and his astral avatar did the same. Solar energy condensed in the palm of his avatar, beaming with the radiant light of a sun. It was hard for me to focus until the ball of solar energy leapt from his palm.

My father's attack engulfed the javelin and continued its path, leaving our atmosphere. Looking at my uncle's position—he was no longer there. He vanished, and when I looked back toward my father, there was a blade in position to enter his heart.