Path of the Extra

Lowering himself until he was eye-level with Pollux, Azriel tilted his head slightly.

“If all you wanted this entire time was the skill the Goddess of Death gave me, then you should have simply asked from the very beginning.”

An endearing snicker slipped from Lia’s lips.

No.

From Pollux.

And because of that, the sound became all the more insidious.

Azriel did his best to keep the rage building inside him at bay.

“It seems you truly are not yourself,” Pollux said. “No matter. Once you give up this skill, my victory will be absolute.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes.

“And if I don’t, you kill Jasmine?”

His voice was quiet.

Far too calm, considering the blackmail he likely had no way out of.

Pollux raised one tiny hand and pointed a finger at Azriel’s chest.

At his heart.

“Every time you suffer, your soul burns. Then it refines. Then it tempers. Then it is reborn into something stronger. In other words, your soul adapts.” His smile widened. “The name [Soul’s Crucible] is not merely for show.”

Azriel held his gaze.

Then, all at once, the smile vanished from Pollux’s face.

“You do not want her dead,” Pollux said. “And, if I am being honest, neither do I. So this is my proposal.”

He tapped Lia’s chest.

“Transfer [Soul’s Crucible] into this body. This body already possesses the core of that Imitator, and right now, it also holds the core binding your sister’s life to this little girl’s.”

Azriel frowned immediately.

“What are you talking about?”

“The only way your sister wakes is if this girl dies.”

Pollux looked up at him with those borrowed eyes.

“So you have a choice. Keep [Soul’s Crucible] and cling to that precious rule of yours—never killing children. If you do, your dear sister will never wake again.”

His voice softened, becoming almost cruelly gentle.

“Or transfer [Soul’s Crucible] into this body. Kill this child. Doing so will destroy the skill, destroy the core sustaining that copycat, make him killable, and therefore make your sister far safer. It will also destroy the core preventing her from waking.”

His smile returned.

“And then, you may spend your final hours with your precious sister.”

Azriel silently stared at him.

Then Pollux let out a small, quiet laugh.

“I believe this is what you humans call killing two birds with one stone, no?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened.

Then, without warning, he grabbed Pollux by the arm.

A surge of mana rushed through Azriel’s veins and poured into him.

No. Into the child’s body.

The next second, a panel appeared before his eyes.

[Status Update!]

[You have transferred the skill: Soul’s Crucible]

Pollux looked at him as though he had expected nothing less.

“Anything for her,” he said.

“Everything,” Azriel replied immediately.

Without the slightest hesitation.

Pollux sat down.

Azriel looked down at him with cold eyes.

“Now,” Pollux said, his voice mocking, “there is only one thing left to do.”

Azriel did not react to his taunting gaze.

He simply summoned Atropos’ Elegy and aimed the Desert Eagle at Pollux’s head.

His index finger tensed against the trigger, ready to pull at any moment.

Yet Azriel only stared at him.

As if he were debating something.

Then, finally, he seemed to make up his mind.

“If I asked you…” Azriel said slowly, “why? Would you answer me truthfully?”

Pollux stopped smiling.

He looked back at Azriel with a deadly serious expression. Despite the gun looming over him, he ignored it completely.

For a few seconds, there was only silence.

Then Pollux answered in a flat, emotionless voice.

“…No.”

Azriel’s gaze darkened.

“This entire scenario was created for me,” he said. “I am the only real participant. This world was designed to torture me. You wish to break me. You cannot get the key without breaking me.”

Pollux said nothing.

Azriel’s expression twisted into something more mournful.

Something painful flickered behind his eyes, though he tried to hide it.

“Are the gods…”

He stopped.

Then he rephrased the question.

“Does the Goddess of Death also want to break me?”

Pollux looked up at him with an indescribable expression.

Once again, he waited a few seconds before answering.

“It was all her idea in the first place.”

Azriel felt as though something sharp had pierced straight through him.

“Oh…”

The word left his lips quietly.

Almost emptily.

“Then… why did she make me her apostle?” he asked. “Why give me [Soul’s Crucible] in the first place? Back then… why did she say those words to me..?”

“Who knows?”

Pollux said it simply.

A sigh slipped from Azriel’s lips. For some reason, he looked disappointed.

“You know, Pollux… you really are a coward.”

Pollux smiled once more.

Then he spoke almost the exact same words they had once exchanged in the Forest of Eternity.

Only this time, the roles seemed reversed.

“And you…?”

His smile widened.

“You are just a hypocrite, aren’t you, Azriel?”

As Pollux said those words, Azriel smiled.

Only for a fraction of a second.

Then his gaze drifted toward Jasmine, who lay sleeping peacefully on the ground. After that, he looked at Celestina, still unconscious, her body bound in chains.

Finally, his eyes returned to Pollux.

His grip tightened around the Desert Eagle.

He pushed everything down.

Every thought.

Every feeling.

Every last trace of hesitation.

Then he raised the gun properly once more and aimed it at Lia’s head.

A cold breeze swept through the oubliette.

Azriel shivered.

He did not know whether it was from the cold, from fear, or from something far worse.

The chains binding Celestina rattled faintly.

A sepulchral silence filled the chamber, and the air seemed to grow heavier, more cumbersome to breathe.

Azriel’s hand began to tremble.

Slowly.

Barely.

But enough for him to notice.

He tightened his palm as much as he could, forcing his arm to remain steady.

Then, as though time itself were slowing with every passing second, his finger began to pull the trigger—

“I actually have a question myself.”

“…!”

Azriel flinched.

His finger stopped.

“W-what…?”

He felt like a startled cat with all its fur standing on end.

His jaw clenched.

Strangely, that feeling was more reassuring than terrifying.

He was starting to feel like himself again.

No.

More than that.

He was starting to regain control.

Unlike before.

Unlike when he killed Dorian.

Pollux did not seem to care. He remained perfectly calm as he asked,

“Why did you have those words written on their gravestones?”

Immediately, Azriel’s hand wavered.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and his jaw tightened until it ached. A hint of fury passed through his eyes before he crushed it down.

“Best mother, perfect daughter, and a kind human. Best father, troublesome son, and a kind human.” Pollux tilted his head. “That is what was written on their gravestones, no? Why?”