Chapter 955 - 954: By The Roots

Akaza looked from the broken sword to Simon.

Virella’s lips parted slightly. Beside her, Ammor stood motionless, staring at the boy who had stopped breathing.

Sonya inclined her head toward the body.

None of them had expected this.

The boy was powerless. His strange calmness had been worth noticing, but nothing else about him suggested danger. He had not threatened them or released any killing intent.

They had thought Simon would lose interest and let him go.

Instead, the child lay dead at their feet.

"Why kill him?" Sonya asked.

Simon lowered his hand.

"Pulling out a weed by its roots."

Akaza’s brows drew together.

"You thought he could become a threat?"

"Yes."

Simon glanced at the sword hilt still trapped in the boy’s fingers.

"He hated us. Me most of all. He was simply very good at hiding it."

Virella looked more closely at the still face.

"But he wasn’t..."

"Showing it?" Simon finished. "That doesn’t mean it wasn’t there."

They remembered his last moments.

A ruined heart. Blood in his mouth. And still, instead of begging or reaching for the wound, he had seized his sword with both hands.

He had aimed for Simon’s eye.

Sonya remembered the scream. Akaza remembered the deliberate change in the sword’s angle.

That hatred had not begun when Simon touched his chest.

Virella slowly closed her mouth.

"He knew he couldn’t overpower you," she murmured. "But he’d still been looking for somewhere he could hurt you."

"Exactly."

Her gaze returned to the broken weapon.

"With enough time and strength, that kind of patience could become dangerous."

"He might never have become strong enough," Akaza said.

"He might not have."

Simon did not pretend otherwise.

But none of them asked why he had refused to take the chance.

Ammor looked beyond the square.

There were still people moving among the ruined houses.

"Then should we remove the rest?" he asked. "Leaving the other humans alive would leave more roots behind."

Simon followed his gaze.

For the first time since stopping here, he examined Miresti properly.

A cooking pot lay overturned beside a broken wall. Grain had spilled into the dust. Farther away, a roof rested where the room beneath it should have been.

His battle with the God of War had passed through this place.

He had not chosen Miresti as a target. Nor had he deliberately aimed at the villages before it.

However, looking at the hand beneath that roof, he knew how little the distinction mattered to anyone who had lived here.

Something heavy settled within his soul.

He had spent decades protecting humans from scenes like this.

Now they crawled through the destruction he left behind.

And the boy at his feet was dead because Simon had recognised too much of himself in him.

His gaze returned to the broken sword.

He had lived long enough to know that understanding another person’s pain did not necessarily make someone kinder. Sometimes it only told them exactly what to fear.

Once, he would have knelt beside this boy and promised that the demons responsible would pay.

Today, he had ensured the boy would never grow strong enough to make such a promise himself.

His old life had not disappeared. It was why the sight still hurt.

But remembering the man he had been would not excuse what he chose to do now.

A scrape came from beside the fallen roof.

Someone had heard Ammor.

A man dragged himself into view, one leg trailing uselessly behind him.

"Please."

His voice barely carried.

"We haven’t done anything."

Another voice joined his from behind a wall.

"We won’t follow you. We won’t tell anyone."

Fear spread through the survivors. People who had remained still began trying to crawl away, while others pressed themselves deeper into places that no longer offered cover.

Simon watched them.

The sadness remained.

So did his decision.

"Do it," he told Ammor. "All the survivors here. I won’t leave another possibility behind."

The man’s hands stopped against the stones.

"But make it quick," Simon continued. "We’re far from the rift. Earth isn’t somewhere we should linger. A stronger enemy could arrive at any moment."

Ammor nodded.

Virella and Akaza moved with him.

However, Sonya stepped forward.

"Don’t bother. This Honourable will handle it."

She closed her eyes and turned toward the ruined village.

Her bare feet rested upon the broken road.

Beneath the rubble, the earth carried every small disturbance to her. A heel scraping stone. A body trembling beneath fallen timber. Breathing so faint it barely moved the chest above it.

She found those who were pleading.

Those trying to hide.

Those too badly injured to understand what was happening.

And those who had never regained consciousness but were still alive.

Sonya raised both hands.

Stone spikes rose throughout Miresti.

There was no rolling wave to warn anyone farther away. The ground opened beneath each living human at almost the same instant.

The man beside the roof had only begun lifting his hands again.

His plea stopped as a stone spike pierced through his head from the ground, killing him.

Behind a shattered doorway, someone fell silent before finishing a name. Their body was hung lifelessly on a stone spike that went through his heart.

Farther away, the rubble shifted once above an unconscious survivor, then settled.

Dozens died within a breath.

Virella’s gaze flickered.

Ammor looked across the village, his expression becoming slightly solemn. Akaza remained still, following the last movement beside a ruined house.

Simon had known Sonya could kill them.

What held his attention was how precisely she had done it.

Each spike had reached a heart or a head. Buried beneath rubble, twisted sideways, moving as they fled... the difference had not mattered.

She had adjusted every strike.

No wasted blows. No second attempts.

Simon extended his perception through the village.

The human heartbeats were gone.

Sonya lowered her hands and dusted her palms together.

"Done."

Virella and Ammor looked at her for another moment.

Then Simon drew his wings inward.

The black membranes folded close. Ivory spars slipped into the spaces at their roots, vanishing pair by pair without tearing his clothes.

"Let’s return to the rift."

He rose on a cushion of wind.

Sonya lifted beside him, leaving the road without needing a platform beneath her feet.

Akaza looked up.

Before he could speak, a firm pressure settled around him, Virella, and Ammor. Pride lifted their bodies while Simon guided the air around them, keeping them balanced as their feet left the ground.

None of the three had reached the Greater Demon realm. Following through the air under their own power was still beyond them.

Ammor instinctively spread his arms.

"Relax," Simon said. "Fighting it will only make this uncomfortable."

Sonya turned her face toward him.

"Six wings, and now you refuse to use them. You really are showing off."

Simon glanced at the three suspended behind him.

"I’m providing transport. Try not to insult the driver."

"This Honourable could carry them."

"Then you can take the next trip."

Akaza sighed.

"Could the two of you argue after we’re moving?"

Simon chuckled and pushed forward.

Wind gathered around the group, shielding the three passengers from the worst of their acceleration. Sonya kept pace beside him.

Miresti receded beneath them.

They flew over broken roads and ridges scarred by the battle, keeping together as the ruined village disappeared behind the hills.