A needle-sharp cold dragged Aren back to consciousness.
His long, black eyelashes fluttered. Blood-red eyes snapped open, fixated on the ceiling. Awareness returned in jagged fragments. With a low groan, he pushed himself upright. Agony shredded his muscles; every movement felt like a fresh tear.
The cell was dim, freezing, and cramped. A toilet sat in the corner, but the room lacked even a basic cot. It wasn't a prison cell; it was a suffocating metal box.
"That woman…" Aren croaked. "She didn't heal me. She just stitched the pieces together."
The pain was too visceral for true restoration. Though his skin appeared flawless, he felt the phantom sting of every spike. Mary's magic had merely forced mangled flesh to knit. He looked recovered on the surface, yet his internal wounds festered. By accelerating the process, she had condemned his nerves to endure the full weight of the trauma.
She could have healed me with a potion. But no one shows mercy to a mass murderer.
Echoing footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts. The cell door's small window slid open with a metallic scrape. Aren met the gaze of the young woman behind the bars. His face remained a mask.
Sea-green hair framed her pale features. Her eyes, red as spider lilies, remained distant. Recognition was instant. The resemblance was too striking to ignore.
This was Amy Donovan.
His younger sister—the one who hated him most.
Aren had been born with a broken body, incapable of storing mana. He had never awakened as a Nyx. Powerless and frail, he still had received their father's undivided attention. Amy loathed that favoritism.
And despite that devotion, Aren had slaughtered him.
Wait. If Aren never awakened, how do I have powers?
He glanced at the system window. During the initial chaos, he hadn't possessed the time to examine the interface.
Later. I'll check it once she's gone.
Amy Donovan was a cornerstone of The Legends of Heroes. Her significance lay in her bond with the protagonist and her overwhelming strength, but her tragic past defined her. The father she worshipped had died at her brother's hand.
In the original plot, after his death at IMFA, Amy and her mother had retreated to the Donovan estate—one of the Great Families. Because her mother had married outside the Seven Elite Families, they were outcasts. Relatives treated them with disdain.
To erase her brother's disgrace and win her grandfather's favor, Amy had transformed herself into a Peerless Nyx.
Ultimately, Amy had claimed exactly what she wanted: the role of heir. Her grandfather hadn't chosen her out of love, but for her potential.
She wielded an affinity for the same power he possessed, making her the only logical successor. Naturally, Javier, the eldest brother, seethed at the decision.
Aren studied her in the silence.
The novel always depicted Amy as meticulous and composed. Now, she looked fractured. Frantic hands had disheveled her hair, and crying had made her eyes raw. The hatred burning within them felt poisonous enough to dissolve him.
"Why?" she whispered.
Her eyes searched his face, desperate for a truth that didn't exist.
"When you fell ill… when they isolated you in that wing… Father was the only one who cared. He was the only one who stayed with you."
She couldn't reconcile the memory with the monster before her. Despite their strained relationship, the idea of him committing such an atrocity had never crossed her mind.
Across from her, Aren's lips curled into a mocking sliver of a smile. A memory surfaced, cold and jagged.
Sick? He thought of the "wing" they had kept him in. Did they intend that research facility for a patient?
Interesting.
When Amy saw the provocative smile lingering on Aren's lips, her patience snapped. All reason vanished.
"Are you… actually smiling right now?"
Her gaze turned lethal. Killing intent flickered in her eyes, sharp as ice.
Aren didn't move a muscle. He regarded her fury as an insignificance—the tantrum of a child. He simply watched her in silence.
That calm made Amy's skin crawl. His smile was cold and unsettling, a snake coiling across his skin, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Amy had feared Aren since childhood. He had never harmed her, yet his presence felt foreign—distant. During their rare meetings, she had tried to bridge the gap, only to hit an invisible wall every time.
The only balm for that disappointment was her father.
Amy worshipped him. Despite his ordinary roots, he had dared to marry the cherished daughter of the Donovan family—one of the Seven Elite Families.
He had endured every hardship for the sake of love, growing stronger until he became the most renowned Nyx researcher in the Mohen Holy Kingdom.
Whenever Amy looked at Aren, she never found the warmth she associated with her father. Instead, she saw an endless emptiness. A darkness so deep it threatened to swallow anyone who dared to look into it.
His gaze carried a faint sense of superiority, as if he didn't truly belong to this world.
Even when Aren wasn't bedridden, he commanded attention effortlessly. His appearance and strange charm drew people in; his silver tongue manipulated them with ease.
Cunning and intelligent, he was a hunter—a serpent waiting to sink venomous fangs into its prey.
Because of his "illness," he rarely appeared in public, yet his shadow loomed large over the world. That was why the massacre shook society to its core.
News that he had slaughtered his father and his guests saturated every corner of the globe.
The internet, social media, and the news—all screamed for his blood. Those who once admired his eccentricities now demanded his execution.
"Why did you do it?" Amy demanded, her voice trembling. "Father only wanted what was best for you! He visited you constantly. When you were trapped in that wing, your father even taught you himself!"
Amy's voice struck the moldy cell walls and echoed back, hollow and jagged.
She clenched her fists, biting her lip to keep from shattering. A few stray tears escaped, betraying the raw agony beneath her fury.
Gripping the iron bars, she leaned toward the small window. A narrow beam of light illuminated Aren's face, while Amy's gaze sharpened with lethal intent.
"Then why did you kill him?" she screamed, her voice fracturing. "The father who was only ever kind to you!"
The words burst from her like a long-suppressed wildfire.
Aren's reply was calm—almost gentle. His voice was so smooth it seemed to graze her skin.
"Do you have any proof that I killed him?"
Amy froze.
"What?"