Extra's Death: I Am the Son of Hades

Chapter 673: Anger, Relief, Tears

Moraine took a step forward.

Her face was stiff with disbelief.

The way her eyes shifted betrayed her emotions.

Surprise, fear, and anger, all of it was trying to find space on the same face.

“You probably got found out as a Witch once and ran away. If you’d just killed everyone the first time, you wouldn’t have had to run again. But don’t worry, now that I’m here—”

His words were cut short.

The slap echoed louder than it should have in the still morning air.

He stood there, stunned.

His cheek stung, but he was confused instead of being in pain.

His thoughts fumbled, trying to grasp what had just happened.

“You killed innocent people for that?! We could’ve just moved away! It wouldn’t have been that hard!” Moraine shouted, her voice cracking with fury.

He opened his mouth, tried to explain.

“But—”

“Leave.”

“…What?”

“Leave! Don’t ever come back! I don’t want to see your face again! It was my mistake, thinking the son of Hades could be different. You’re just like him.”

She turned without another word and stormed back into the tavern.

He stood there, staring at the closed door, still trying to piece together what went wrong.

When it finally sank in, the world slowed to a crawl.

…

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

Moraine slammed the latch shut on the backdoor and started throwing her belongings into a bag.

Her hands trembled as they touched clothes and utensils, but she kept moving.

She would bury the dead after packing, then leave the town before nightfall.

The bodies… she still couldn’t get them out of her mind.

The shocked expression on the faces of people. The blood.

No one had been spared.

She reached for a folded shirt on the side table, and spoke absentmindedly,

“Did you see the clothes I bought yesterday? I can’t find—”

Silence answered her.

She froze.

Realizing what she’d just done, she bit her lip and shut her eyes for a second.

He wasn’t here.

And yet, her mind kept returning to him, like a wound she couldn’t stop touching.

’Why did he do that?’

The answer came quickly, too quickly.

’Hades wouldn’t have taught him compassion. He just gave him potential, talent, knowledge of death, and war, and sent him out into the world.’

Maybe… maybe he thought killing was the only way to protect her.

’No,’ she told herself, shaking the thought away. ’Why am I worrying about him now?’

She tossed another shirt into the bag.

“He’s old enough to know right from wrong. He should’ve known better.”

Still, her hands moved slower now.

Had he eaten?

Was he sleeping somewhere safe?

He was smart, but naïve in some ways.

What if someone tricked him?

What if someone hurt him while he was alone?

“Damn it,” she whispered. “I should check on him at least once.”

As soon as she thought it, the worry bloomed into something louder, and more frantic.

She didn’t even bother changing properly.

She just pulled on a coat and stepped out the back door, the same one staff usually used to enter and leave the tavern.

She had barely taken one step when her eyes caught something by the wall.

Her breath caught again.

He was there, sitting curled up beside the tavern wall, knees pulled up to his chest.

His back was pressed against the cold stone, and his cloak wrapped tight around his body.

His head rested on his arms.

She took a step closer and, sensing her, he looked up.

“Ah—”

He jolted upright, clearly not expecting her.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said, eyes wide, hands fidgeting.

She didn’t speak.

“I shouldn’t have killed them. I’m sorry.”

His voice was small, and unsure.

He looked down at his feet.

Seeing him here, close to home, brought a strange mix of anger and relief that twisted in her chest.

But he didn’t notice that.

He only saw her silence, and it made him rush to speak again.

“I should’ve asked first. I thought it was the best way, but… I won’t do something like that again. Please… just don’t send me away. Please.”

His fists clenched as he spoke.

His voice trembled.

Seeing him like this reminded of the child that had been brought to her years ago.

“Moraine, I don’t want to be thrown away again. Please…”

Before he could finish, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

“You idiot!” she cried, voice breaking. “What do you mean I would throw you away?! I would never do that!”

His eyes widened as he felt her tears against his shoulder.

He hadn’t expected this.

“Moraine?”

“Stop saying it’s your fault. It was my mistake. I should’ve taught you better,” she sobbed. “Don’t blame yourself, okay? I won’t ever tell you to leave again. Just… don’t say things like that again, alright?”

She held onto him like he was the last thing keeping her upright.

It took him hours to calm her down.

When she finally did, her cheeks were red and blotchy.

Her nose was running.

She looked anything but composed.

“I… I wasn’t crying.”

“Okay.”

“I said I wasn’t crying!”

“I never said you were.”

“But your eyes are saying something different!”

He was baffled.

Her mood had shifted again. First anger in the morning, then sorrow at night, and now this.

He looked at her, confused.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

Her jaw tightened, and she realized how ridiculous she looked.

She straightened up, dusted off her coat, and cleared her throat.

“I’m going to finish packing… so…”

Her expression turned serious again.

“You—go give them a proper burial.”

His face tensed at the words.

It reminded him of the reason she had nearly discarded him like the Sovereign.

“You shouldn’t kill innocent people,” she said softly, placing a hand on his head. “That’s not how you protect something. That’s just destruction. Treat life with care.”

He nodded.

It took him a full day to bury everyone.

He didn’t use magic.

He did it with his hands.

One by one.

They left the town the next morning.

After that, years passed.

Then decades.

They never stayed in one place long.

They moved from town to town.

They opened a tavern, closed them, started over somewhere new.

He never killed another innocent again.

With passage of time, Moraine grew older.

Lines formed on her face. Her steps slowed.

She never told him to leave her side again.

Unlike her, his appearance didn’t change.

Still looked like a young man on the edge of adulthood, frozen in time by the blood that ran through his veins.

But time didn’t care about that.

Eventually, she couldn’t get out of bed anymore.

The tavern was quiet when he came in that evening.

Her breath was shallow.

Her smile was weak.

Both of them understood it instinctively, it was her last day.