Chapter 58: Despair
"Young Master.... how could it be you....? How could you be here...?"
Trisha’s voice trembled violently as her eyes finally landed on the familiar figure being dragged through the crowd.
Cole.
His wrists were tightly bound by thick metal chains, several guards surrounding him as they forced him toward the execution stage. His clothes were slightly disheveled from the journey, but his expression remained calm, making him look completely different from the helpless criminal the crowd was shouting about.
Trisha’s face instantly turned pale.
For a moment, she almost thought her blood had stopped flowing.
If this had happened before, seeing Cole return would have filled her with relief. She would have desperately wanted to run toward him, even if she knew she wasn’t supposed to.
But now...
His appearance felt like a knife being driven straight through her heart.
A sharp, suffocating pain spread through her chest, making even breathing difficult.
She had endured everything until now.
No matter what the Saint Family did to her, no matter how much pain they inflicted, she had never truly broken.
Because she knew one thing.
Cole wasn’t here.
As long as he remained outside the Saint Family’s reach, he would be safe.
She could endure the punishment.
She could endure the pain.
She could even endure death.
But now...
Looking at the chains wrapped around his wrists...
Looking at the guards surrounding him...
Looking at him being brought here like a condemned criminal...
The final support holding her together seemed to collapse.
"Just why did you return...?"
Trisha suddenly screamed.
Her voice tore through the execution square, filled with anguish and desperation.
The veins beneath her pale skin bulged as she strained against the chains, her entire body trembling violently. She didn’t care about the countless people watching her anymore.
She didn’t care about the pain.
She only stared at Cole.
"Why did you come back?!"
Perhaps she had exerted herself too much, or perhaps the violent movement had aggravated her already terrible injuries.
The wound across her chest suddenly split open.
Fresh blood poured from beneath the torn fabric, quickly staining her clothes a deeper crimson.
Several people nearby laughed coldly at the sight.
Trisha didn’t even seem to notice.
Her eyes remained fixed on Cole.
"Young Master... you shouldn’t have come back..."
Her voice became weaker.
"Why...?"
Cole’s gaze had never left her.
He watched the blood slowly flowing down her body.
He saw the exhaustion in her eyes.
He saw the countless injuries covering her.
Most importantly...
He saw the concern.
Even now.
Even while she was standing on the execution stage waiting for death, the first thing she cared about wasn’t herself.
It was him.
Cole’s fingers slowly curled into fists beneath the chains.
"These fucking bastards..."
His voice was low.
Almost inaudible.
Yet every word carried a chilling hatred.
For some reason, seeing Trisha in this condition made something inside Cole twist painfully.
He couldn’t explain it.
Perhaps it was because of the memories left behind by the original owner.
Perhaps it was because she had genuinely treated him with kindness.
Or perhaps it was simply because she was innocent.
Whatever the reason...
Cole couldn’t pretend that what he was seeing meant nothing.
Why didn’t I come back sooner...?
The thought appeared in his mind.
If he had returned earlier...
If he hadn’t spent so much time investigating the situation in the city...
If he had simply rushed back the moment he heard about Trisha...
Would she have needed to endure all of this?
His breathing gradually became heavier.
A trace of guilt surfaced deep within his eyes.
He should have been faster.
He should have been stronger.
He should have realized that the Saint Family would resort to something like this.
But regret couldn’t change what had already happened.
And after that regret...
Came rage.
A terrifying rage.
It began as a tiny spark deep within his chest.
Then it spread.
Through his blood.
Through his veins.
Through every muscle in his body.
It felt like molten lava had suddenly been poured into his bloodstream, burning away every trace of calm he had maintained since entering the compound.
Cole slowly raised his head.
His gaze swept across the Saint Family members surrounding the execution stage.
The elders.
The guards.
Amorpheus.
The countless people who were shouting for Trisha’s death.
His eyes gradually became colder.
The temperature around him seemed to drop.
For the first time since arriving at the Saint Family...
Cole no longer cared about escaping quietly.
He no longer cared about preserving the family’s reputation.
He no longer cared about the resources he might lose by turning against them.
All he could see was Trisha standing there covered in blood.
They had crossed a line.
A line that could no longer be undone.
They will pay.
Cole’s fists tightened beneath the chains.
Every muscle in his body quietly tensed.
"I swear..."
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
But the killing intent within it was unmistakable.
"Saint Family..."
"You will pay for this."
For Cole, the Saint Family had always been a source of misery.
From the moment he had grown up within these walls, he had been surrounded by people who looked down upon him. They mocked his weakness, whispered about him behind his back, and treated every resource given to him as though it were being thrown into a bottomless pit.
Cole had endured all of it.
But now...
They had gone after the only person in this place who had ever genuinely cared about him.
The anger burning inside his chest grew heavier with every passing second.
Meanwhile, the booing and cursing from the surrounding crowd showed no sign of stopping.
For the members of the Saint Family who had watched a so-called good-for-nothing consume precious resources for years, the sight before them felt almost like justice finally arriving.
Some had lost opportunities because resources were allocated to Cole.
Some had watched relatives die because they couldn’t obtain enough medicine in time.
And some simply hated him because everyone else did.
Among them, an old man stood near the edge of the crowd, his wrinkled face filled with undisguised joy.
His cloudy eyes were fixed on Cole as the guards dragged him toward the center of the execution stage.
For a long moment, the old man simply watched.
Then...
He slowly raised his head toward the heavens.
His lips trembled slightly.
It was as though he were thanking the gods for finally delivering justice.
The old man also had a son.
A son who had been just like Cole.
Weak.
Useless.
Good for nothing.
But there had been one difference.
His son had never received the resources Cole had enjoyed.
When his son became seriously ill, the family had been unable to provide the treatment in time.
By the time they finally obtained the medicine...
It was already too late.
His son had died.
The old man had never forgotten that day.
He had never forgotten the cold body lying before him.
Nor had he forgotten the resources that could have saved his son if they had been available.
Why?
Why was there such a difference in treatment?
Why did a useless person like Cole deserve everything while his own son had been left to die?
That resentment had remained buried inside his heart for years.
And now...
Seeing Cole being dragged toward execution, that buried hatred finally found an outlet.
A cruel smile appeared on the old man’s face.
"Justice..."
He whispered.
Similar thoughts existed within countless people standing around the execution stage.
Every person had their own reason.
Some were genuine victims.
Some were jealous.
Some had simply been influenced by the accusations.
And others were nothing more than people enjoying the spectacle of someone else’s downfall.
None of them seemed to notice the change in Cole’s eyes.
Or perhaps...
Even if they noticed, they simply didn’t care.
What could a good-for-nothing trash possibly do?
He was already wearing chains.
He was surrounded by guards.
And standing above him was the Patriarch of the Saint Family.
To them...
Cole’s fate had already been decided.
Yet there was one person who noticed.
Amorpheus.
His eyes had remained fixed upon Cole ever since the guards brought him into the square.
The subtle change in Cole’s expression didn’t escape him.
That coldness.
That suppressed killing intent.
That faint fire burning behind his eyes.
A slightly amused expression appeared on Amorpheus’s face.
"So..."
His voice carried a mocking tone.
"I have to say..."
"You’ve got quite the attitude for a criminal who dared to collude with the Abyssal Beasts."
Cole acted as though he hadn’t heard him.
He didn’t even turn his head.
His attention remained focused on Trish.
Her pale face.
Her bloodied clothes.
The chains digging into her body.
Every detail was being carved into his mind.
Amorpheus’s smile gradually disappeared.
He had expected fear.
Perhaps begging.
Maybe even desperation.
But Cole simply ignored him.
That attitude irritated him far more than any insult could have.
In the distance...
Patriarch Markovich Saint continued watching the scene.
His tall figure stood quietly above the execution stage, his expression remaining completely unchanged.
There wasn’t even the slightest ripple of emotion across his cold face.
It was as though everything happening below had nothing to do with him.
Yet no one present dared to underestimate him.