Chapter 471: Is It Really?
"After all this time, someone has finally come yet again."
The man’s voice sounded across the peak, gentle and warm.
"Come, sit beside me."
Damian’s legs moved before his mind caught up, carrying him toward the figure at the edge of the peak.
As he drew closer, details began resolving that distance had hidden.
The shape of broad shoulders became clearer with each step.
And then he saw the hair that fell past those shoulders.
Thump thump
His pulse quickened, heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears.
’Don’t tell me...’
His steps slowed, becoming more hesitant.
’Is it really...?’
Each movement forward felt heavier than the last, his breathing coming in shallow bursts.
Thump thump thump
The hair color became unmistakable as the distance closed, the exact same shade he saw every time he looked in a mirror.
’It can’t be... He’s supposed to be dead. Felix said the first one to die that night was–’
He reached the edge and lowered himself to sit, his movements stiff and uncertain.
Time seemed to stop, then slowly, fighting against something that made his hands shake, he turned his head–
’It’s... really him.’
–And the face was exactly the same as the statue he’d just knelt before, kind and gentle with crimson eyes.
Damian’s breathing stopped completely.
The man sitting beside him was none other than Desiderius Bloodworth, his grandfather.
For the first time since his older brother died when he was three years old in his past life, Damian sat beside someone who shared his blood, someone connected to him by more than choice or circumstance or love freely given.
He didn’t know how to feel about that, didn’t know what this moment was supposed to mean or how he was supposed to react to meeting family he’d never known existed.
His throat tightened, but no tears came.
’Just how... is this possible?’
Then Felix’s words from earlier surfaced in his memory, cutting through the haze: "The Patriarch ceased to exist that night with no trace of his body ever recovered."
Hope flared in Damian’s chest, sudden and overwhelming.
’His body was never found... Did he– Did he somehow survive?!’
The man turned his head, those crimson eyes focusing on Damian’s face, taking note of every emotion flashing across it.
"..."
Nobody spoke for several long moments.
Then the man’s expression shifted, sadness crossing his kind features.
"It seems... fate really hasn’t been kind to me."
His voice remained gentle despite the words.
It had been many years since any of his descendants had come to this place.
And now a northern boy with crimson hair and eyes sat beside him, looking at him with the kind of shock and desperate hope that suggested something terrible had happened to his real self.
Damian’s voice came out rough when he finally managed to speak.
"Are you–"
"Child, I’m just a tiny soul fragment of my real self."
The man’s voice cut through gently, but the words landed like a blade.
Damian’s face went blank for a heartbeat.
Then a helpless smile crossed his features, bitter and understanding all at once.
’Of course.’
His chest tightened, the hope that had flared so bright moments ago extinguishing like a candle in the wind.
’Of course it’s just a soul fragment. Of course he’s not actually alive... Why would I think anything else?’
He took a deep breath, forcing air into lungs that felt too tight.
’Get it together... This is still more than you had five minutes ago. Stop being ungrateful.’
The man watched him silently for some time, then continued.
"After the world was finally at peace and I started my family, I came back here to Mount Aeon."
His voice remained gentle giving Damian time to process.
"The place where I ascended to SS rank, where I made that strike that changed everything..."
Damian looked forward, his breathing finally steady again.
Only now did he notice what was missing from the landscape ahead.
’There’s no mountain range.’
The realization hit him with strange weight.
’This is what it looked like before... Before he created the Eternal Horizon with a single swing.’
"I created that statue and left a bit of my soul to provide guidance for my descendants."
The man’s voice pulled Damian’s attention back.
"Over the years, many of them came here... Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren who were acknowledged by the will I left in the statue."
He paused, looking ahead where the mountain range should have been.
"But eventually, they stopped coming. One year passed, then another and then... I fell into slumber, waiting for the next descendant who would need guidance."
He looked at Damian, something twinkling in those crimson eyes.
"And now, after all this time, a young northern guest with crimson hair and eyes has come who... seems to have no blood of mine."
His smile widened slightly.
"Nor does he have any resemblance to me or my descendants beyond the coloring, and yet the statue acknowledged him enough to awaken me... Curious, isn’t it?"
Damian looked at the man with a complex look in his eyes, his mouth opened, words forming and dying before they could emerge.
’What should I say?’
His thoughts raced frantically.
’That your entire family was massacred seventeen years ago? That every single person with Bloodworth blood was hunted down and slaughtered in a coordinated purge?’
His throat worked, trying to force sound past the tightness.
’That I only survived because my mother removed my bloodline markers?’
"I–"
But before he could continue, the man looked away, his voice cutting through gently.
"But it doesn’t matter how or why fate brought you here. Our meeting must have been destined for a reason, so I will still guide you as I would any descendant."
He paused, turning back to face him with the one of the most affectionate smiles Damian had ever seen.
"But before that, do you mind keeping me company to appreciate the view for some time? It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone to sit with."
Damian looked at that smile and his throat closed completely, the confession dying before it could emerge.
’No need to tell him the truth... Why destroy his peace for no reason?’
He nodded once, not trusting his voice.
Then a comfortable silence fell between them as birds continued chirping in the distance, their calls echoing across the impossible landscape.
The sun hung overhead, warm without being harsh, casting everything in golden light that felt more like a memory than reality.
They sat at the edge of the peak, looking out over a north that hadn’t existed for decades, neither one speaking about the fate of the Bloodworth family.