One-Eyed Monster

Lord Bern quietly lay in the rocking chair.

The Spirit Core on his chest was glowing brightly.

This light informed him that his perfect body had been defeated, his entire plan had failed.

Is it truly over?

Lord Bern couldn’t help but think, he no longer had any trump cards. The mercenary group he maintained with money couldn’t arrive here in time, and even if they did, they would likely struggle to surpass Bistal’s guardians.

The Spirit Cores possessed by the Circus had all been crushed by him. He had not anticipated that gathering all the power he had distributed wouldn’t be enough to defeat those two youths.

Who exactly were those two youths? Why did they come to hinder his chance at immortality?

Lord Bern had many questions in his mind, but at this moment, he could no longer think clearly.

He knew those people were on their way here.

The pretense he had carefully hidden would soon be exposed. In the future, he would no longer be a wealthy and amiable old man, but a scoundrel who would stop at nothing for his own sake.

His children had long severed ties with him. He was grateful not to have dragged his children down. They were successful, each establishing their own enterprises with the wealth he had allocated to them, free from any entanglement with Bern. Although they weren’t unimaginably wealthy, they could still support themselves...

Lord Bern’s thoughts gradually began to grow chaotic. After thinking about his children, he then thought of his wealth. He was unwilling to part with it, wanting to possess it forever, fueling his drive for immortality.

But now, the dream of immortality might be shattered.

He could sense the scent of death.

The figure in Black Cloth reappeared before him.

"You’ve finally come!" Lord Bern smiled, seemingly relieved.

"Indeed, it’s been a long time." The being Bern considered a Grim Reaper stood quietly beside him.

"Are you here to take me away?" Despair shone in Bern’s eyes; he truly feared death, "To take me to the Eternal Tranquility Realm?"

"Oh, no, it’s not like that." The Grim Reaper waved a hand, "I’m just here to reclaim what’s mine."

"For all these years, I’ve honored my promise. Haven’t I offered enough Spirit Cores?" Lord Bern was still trying to negotiate.

"You did well. As Equivalent Exchange, you gained plenty of power, didn’t you?"

"Right, you let me live until now, but is now truly the end of my journey?" Lord Bern asked.

"To be precise, we underestimated their strength; I didn’t want to see this outcome either."

"What about my immortality..."

"I’m sorry, Bern, I can’t help anymore," the Grim Reaper replied, taking the glowing Spirit Core from Bern.

"Mm..." Bern groaned, his entire body limp.

"We gave you plenty of power, Bern. Regrettably, you were just one step from immortality." The Grim Reaper consoled Bern.

"Will you take me away now?" Fear filled Bern’s eyes.

"No, your life isn’t under my control. I am a Soul Guardian, not the Grim Reaper you imagine," the reaper calmly stated.

"Hmm?" Bern was startled. After forty years, this being remained unchanged. If these people hadn’t mastered the power to transcend life and death, Bern wouldn’t believe it.

"What will come, will come, Bern. Our collaboration ends here. You’re exposed, so we must take back what’s ours! Good luck, Bern!" The figure in Black Cloth gradually vanished from Bern’s sight, though Bern didn’t hear its final words.

Now, Bern lacked any strength. He felt as if he’d traversed a long, arduous road, his entire body sore and aching.

What will come, will come. Death would also arrive.

Immortality had slipped away from him, and he couldn’t fathom such failure.

At the gate of the little courtyard, the neigh of a horse was heard, signaling the arrival of those people.

Bern’s lips formed a faint smile, but this time the smile was noticeably weak.

The first person to step into the courtyard was someone he recognized, though now his vision was failing him, unlike before. The power given by the Spirit Core was evidently crucial.

"You came!" Bern weakly uttered, a stark contrast to when he spoke to the Black Cloth figure he thought was a Grim Reaper.

Entering the courtyard were Popovich and Igor. Although the night was dim, Bern’s place was well-lit.

"Bern! Those people at the gate, they’re from the Circus, aren’t they? Why have they become like that?" Lord Popovich asked upon entering.

"Heh-heh, they only lost what wasn’t theirs to begin with," Bern replied feebly, now reclining in his chair like an old man.

"These people chose this path and must bear the consequence. Equivalent Exchange, as always!"

"So I don’t need to ask, that body was released by you too!" Lord Popovich instantly knew the answer, realizing everything about Bern was a façade, and he was the one behind the Circus’s machinations.

"Yes! That was a body I’d preserved for years, one I intended to possess, but I fell short, so very close!"

This was an unfamiliar Bern, one Lord Popovich did not recognize at all.

It was this unfamiliarity that confirmed to Popovich everything before had been an illusion.

Though difficult to accept, facts remained facts, no matter how strangely unbelievable they might be.

"It’s a shame, I thought we were true friends!"

"Ha-ha, I have no friends. My friends were my wealth, but now, everything shall be lost!"

"You!" Bern struggled to sit up from his chair, pointing his withered finger at Igor and Kadi, "You destroyed my immortality. Even in the Eternal Tranquility Realm, I won’t forgive you."

Igor and Kadi curiously watched Bern, intrigued by Lord Bern’s words, especially concerning immortality.

"Bern, why have you become like this? Was everything before just an illusion?" Popovich was puzzled by Bern’s appearance, especially recalling the past.

"I wouldn’t say anything to a Scholar; I despise Scholars, so you were never my friend, and I wouldn’t tell you any truths." Bern barked hoarsely, seemingly straining himself, narrowing his eyes with contempt as he looked at Popovich.