How should a novel centered on revenge conclude?
For Ethan, the most loathsome answer to this question was when revenge was stretched out thin, only for the protagonist to ultimately forgive those who deserved their wrath after all the trials and tribulations they endured. In the modern era, he had seen this scenario so often in the countless anime, novels, and manga he consumed that he had lost all patience for it. Areth's situation was no different. To forgive characters who had not only committed such atrocities but felt no remorse for them was not an act of kindness or mercy; it was sheer idiocy.
In the later stages of the novel The Journey of a Rising Hero, Areth had forgiven Duke Rolan and his brothers. His only reaction had been to sever ties with them. Did these people, spared and forgiven, then wise up and become decent human beings?
Of course not.
Throughout the story, Duke Rolan attempted to kill Areth countless times. His mother had conspired with a witch, sacrificing orphanage children to her. His brothers took every opportunity to play foul political games against their envied older brother. Ironically, only Lysandra faded into the background as the story progressed.
But at one point, Duke Rolan kidnapped Areth's beloved and used him as bait to lure Areth into a trap, a plan that succeeded. To make matters worse, Caelum, hearing of the woman's abduction, would go on to commit one of the most revolting acts in the story: an attempted rape that nearly succeeded.
Fortunately, at some point, the author realized how much the readers loathed this character and understood he could no longer be used for such mindless plot points. TAs expected, Caelum died shortly afterwards, not at the hands of Areth, but due to his own stupidity.
This was the source of the fury a man like Ethan felt while reading. He was just an ordinary young man looking for an escape from his monotonous life. He truly loved web novels, especially those set in fantasy worlds, but he despised these "revenge" stories that resulted in nothing.
If a revenge story ends in mercy, it ceases to be a revenge story.
Forgiveness is a virtue, yes. But forgiveness only gains meaning through remorse, atonement, and change. Otherwise, it is not mercy; it is weakness. It is a second dagger handed to the criminal.
Ethan knew this.
If a story constantly rewards evil, keeps the tyrant alive, and forces the victim to forgive, there is no justice there. There is only the author's cowardice.
What Areth had endured was not the kind of thing one forgives. Systematic humiliation. Being dragged to the gallows. Betrayal. Planned assassination attempts. The sacrifice of innocent children. A kidnapped woman. An attempted rape.
These were not "mistakes."
These were choices.
And choices have consequences.
For Ethan, it wasn't about blood. It was about the result. If Duke Rolan and Elizabeth lived, they would plot again one day. They would poison again, betray again, burn again. To forgive them was to become an accomplice to the blood of their future victims.
What Areth needed to deliver was not some inconsistent justice to satisfy a "revenge ego," but actual vengeance.
____a3
Areth continued to walk.
Duke Rolan was recoiling. The aristocratic arrogance on his face had crumbled. His lips trembled, his hands shook uncontrollably. His expensive coat was stained with splatters of blood.
"Stop!" Rolan screamed. "We can talk! This is politics! This is power! You'll understand one day!"
Areth tilted his head slightly. Silver rings swirled within his pupils.
"Politics?"
In an instant, he was in front of Rolan. The Duke tried to draw his sword but was too late. Areth did not swing Amelum. This time, he didn't hurry. He reached out and seized Rolan's jaw. His fingers were like iron. The Duke's teeth clattered against one another.
"How many?" Areth asked in a calm voice. "How many potential lives have been ruined because of you?"
Rolan couldn't answer. Areth's fingers slowly tightened.
Crack.
The lower jawbone dislocated. The Duke's mouth hung at a grotesque angle. He tried to scream, but only a muffled, gurgling sound escaped. A mixture of blood and saliva flowed down his chin.
Areth raised Amelum with his other hand.
He placed the blade just below Rolan's kneecap and, with a single, sharp motion, split the bone in two. The leg bent at an unnatural angle. Bone fragments tore through the skin, protruding outward. Rolan collapsed to the floor, trying to crawl away.
Areth caught him from behind.
This time, he drove the sword through the shoulder. He slid it between the ribs, letting the tip roam within the chest cavity. Rolan's eyes bulged. He couldn't breathe. Blood, rather than air, rasped from his lungs.
On the third turn, the ribs shattered. The ribcage collapsed inward. The heart was pierced, torn to shreds. Blood erupted from Rolan's mouth and nose. His eyes were still open.
But it wasn't over.
He grabbed the Duke by the hair, pulled his head back, and swung Amelum in a horizontal arc.
The neck bone tried to resist.
It failed.
The head separated from the torso, tracing a short arc through the air. When it hit the ground, the eyes were still open. The lips seemed to quiver. The body remained on its knees for a few seconds before toppling over. Blood geysered from the neck, spreading across the stone floor like a warm waterfall. That's why she tried to hide, but it was funny that she thought she could escape Areth's blessed moonlight eyes.
Areth withdrew the sword and began to clear the remaining men. Before long, the hall fell into silence, washed in blood.
The hall was now almost silent.
Only Elizabeth remained. She tried to escape a few times, but Areth immediately locked the door. The only place she could escape to was the high area several meters above, somehow jumping up, but of course she couldn't manage it. That's why she tried to hide, but it was funny that she thought she could escape Areth's blessed moonlight eyes.
The Duchess had crawled out from under the table, cowering in a corner. Her eyes looked crazed. Her hands were clasped together; she was praying, weeping, sobbing.
"My son... I gave birth to you... please... I am your mother..."
Areth stopped. He looked at her for a moment. In Ethan's mind, the children from that orphanage appeared. The witch's altar. Small bodies. Blood.
"Mother?" Areth said.
He approached slowly.
Elizabeth tried to crawl backward but stepped on her own dress. She faceplanted onto the floor. Areth placed his foot on the nape of her neck.
"You are nothing but an insult to mothers..."
Moonlight intensified beneath his foot.
He flipped her over onto her back. Elizabeth was thrashing. Her nails scraped against Areth's arm, but they couldn't even scratch his skin. Elizabeth gasped for air, but her lungs were filling with blood.
As Areth kept his foot on her neck, Elizabeth's face rubbed against the stone floor. Her trembling lasted a few seconds. Then, that trembling was replaced by something else.
Fury.
The fear in her eyes didn't fade, but it transformed. Her lips curled. She bared her teeth. In that moment, she didn't look like a mother, but a cornered viper.
"You cannot judge me," she hissed. "I kept this house standing! Was it you who was going to save it? You?"
Areth pulled his foot back. The woman rolled from her stomach to her back and sat up. She drew a small, slender dagger from the inner lining of her dress. Gold-handled, elegant, but lethal.
She had been waiting for a single opening.
With a scream, she lunged toward Areth's chest.
The dagger struck Areth's chest. It stopped with a silver vibration without even piercing the skin. Elizabeth pressed again in shock. Then once more. The metal screeched, but it did not enter.
"Die! Just die!" she shrieked. "You should have died the day you were born! You were a mistake, a weak child, yet we called the healers to save you... How could I have known it was such an error?!"
Areth didn't take his eyes off her.
"Did you kill my father, too?"
A twisted smile appeared on Elizabeth's face. She laughed with pride, almost defiantly.
"Yes."
The word echoed in the silence of the hall.
"He was weak," she said. "He had grown old. He was indecisive. He was preparing to make a bastard like you the heir. You were going to ruin all my plans. Rolan was strong. He was ambitious. I wanted to live in a powerful house. I wanted authority. I wanted security. What is wrong with that?"
Her eyes glittered with madness.
"I poisoned him. A little more every night. In his wine. In his soup. He melted away slowly. No one suspected. I was going to get what I wanted before you decided to ruin everything!"
Areth's expression remained unchanged.
Elizabeth swung the dagger again, this time toward his face. Areth caught her wrist. As his fingers closed, the bones crunched. The dagger fell to the floor. The woman screamed, but this scream was not out of fear; it was out of rage.
"I wanted to survive!" she wailed. "I stood tall in a world where women are crushed! If I hadn't done it, I would have been the one crushed!"
Areth leaned down. They locked eyes.
"You can kill me," she said through gritted teeth. "But know that you are just like me. You kill for power."
Areth straightened up.
"I can't even find the words to say to you... Actually, you're not even worth my breath."
Moonlight coalesced in his palm. A silver glow spread through the woman's body. First, the rage in her eyes extinguished. Then, her muscles relaxed. Her breath grew erratic.
Elizabeth tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Her lips trembled.
"This... isn't possible... my son, please," she said, attempting one last manipulative plea for mercy.
As the moonlight circulated through her veins, her heart grew heavy. Not like poison, but like a weight. A pressure collapsing from within. her breath shortened. Her vision blurred.
Areth withdrew his hand.
Elizabeth's heart beat once.
Once more.
Then it stopped.
No blood spurted. No scream rose. Her body simply slumped to the side. Her eyes remained open, but the ambition, fear, and greed within them had completely drained away.
"It's finally over. Now... what's next?" Muttering to himself, he slowly walked toward the door, wiping the blood from his sword as if he hadn't just committed a massacre with his own hands.
But just at that moment-
Just as Areth moved toward the blood-stained door, his feet suddenly left the ground, as if gravity had vanished. Then, with immense speed, he ascended through the ruined dome toward the sky.
As Areth's body rose, the world below shrank rapidly. The ruined dome, the blood-soaked hall, the shattered crests... all faded like mist. There was no wind, yet his hair billowed. There was no gravity, yet he did not fall.
He flapped his wings in panic, but it was useless.
Finally, when he opened his eyes and found himself in a vividly crimson place, and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen approaching him with an expression of fury, he understood what was happening. She had distinct, divine features.
"Ah hi... Your Sublime Holiness... the Moon Goddess... How wonderful to see you."