AHEIAID Chapter 58: Failure
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The moment the Empress entered the palace, news quickly reached Harry's ears.
"The current situation is too unfavorable for us. Who would have thought that District 13 could actually bring the old emperor back? Lord Druck and the others are too afraid of offending Garius Heine and have stopped supporting us, Your Highness..."
The subordinate, filled with panic, looked at his master.
"Garius Heine has already brought charges against you in the military court. Given your actions, the lightest sentence would be exile to the stars. Even though the royal family has the power of pardon, the parliamentary vote is in his hands—you will hardly escape punishment."
"On top of that, the Empress has no love for you and will surely persuade His Majesty to abandon you! If you stay, you die. If you leave, you die too! Garius Heine must be waiting outside for you. Right now, staying put is the best choice—"
At worst, exile would still leave him with his life!
The loyal subordinate, who had accompanied his master to the very end, had already realized they were at a dead end. His face was filled with sorrow.
But Harry, who had listened to everything from start to finish, ignored the subordinate's anxious expression. Instead, he stood up leisurely, his slender, fair fingers brushing past rows of formal attire in the wardrobe. Finally, his hand settled on his favorite outfit, and he began dressing.
"Your Highness?" the subordinate called hesitantly.
"Shh, don't make noise," Harry replied.
The subordinate fell silent, bewildered, watching the prince—who had always been difficult to read—dress as if he were preparing for a grand occasion.
His platinum blonde, slightly wavy short hair framed his angelic, delicate face, and his eyes sparkled with light.
Though the Empress was a shrewd and ruthless businesswoman, she was undeniably beautiful—like a goddess descended to the mortal world.
Among her three children, only the youngest, Harry, had inherited her beauty. He resembled her the most.
To the subordinate, the exquisite prince looked like he was humming a tune while carefully choosing gemstone accessories. Finally, he stood before the dressing mirror, nodding in satisfaction before speaking his second sentence of the day:
"It's time to go."
What? Go out?
The subordinate panicked. "You can't, Your Highness! Outside—"
"I know." Harry cut him off, curling his lips as he gazed at his own reflection. "I did it. I destroyed Garius Heine. I destroyed the Empire. I was the one who turned a hero into a mad dog and brought chaos to this world. As the creator of all this, why shouldn't I go admire my masterpiece?"
He turned to look at his subordinate, whose mouth hung open in shock.
"Shouldn't I stand proudly before my great work and let the world know whose ‘achievement’ this is?"
"But, but—"
"If a villain remains unknown, isn't that just laughable?" A glimmer of madness and excitement flickered in Harry's eyes as he murmured, "Just thinking about how, in the future, everyone will grit their teeth in hatred at my name, yet be powerless to stop me—ah, it makes me so happy. Super happy!!"
In Harry's eyes, Garius—who had personally slaughtered his own wife and children—was already a lunatic.
And lunatics never stop killing. He would be the first, the old emperor the second, and many more would follow as the third, fourth, and fifth...
The taste of blood was addictive.
Harry knew this better than anyone.
Perhaps, at first, the fallen hero only wanted revenge. But after experiencing the thrill of silencing his opposition through sheer power, he would inevitably break his own limits again and again!
Eventually, he would become a tyrant who ruled through fear.
"I’m just going to help him embrace that fate…"
Harry seemed to catch the scent of lawless chaos, his smile twisted with madness. Bloodlust curled at the corners of his lips, and his pupils gleamed with cold light.
Since this was to be a grand catastrophe, how could it lack the blood of its ‘creator’? Without his own sacrifice, how could this tragedy have a perfect ending—both a final curtain and the beginning of agony?
Garius Heine… Ha… how pitiful you are…
The subordinate, finally realizing Harry's true intentions, was overcome with fear. His eyes darted frantically, sweat dripping down his face. "Your Highness, I—I…"
Harry shot him an emotionless glance. "You don’t need to come with me."
A useless thing like him would only ruin the aesthetics.
Relieved, the subordinate let out a breath and stammered, "Thank you, Your Highness, thank you for your mercy…"
He had thought this was his master's final act of kindness. With red-rimmed eyes, he watched Harry walk away.
On the other side, the moment he stepped out of the palace, Harry immediately sensed the presence of someone tailing him. He chuckled. He and the other party understood each other too well—there was no need for pretense.
Without hesitation, he took an ordinary aircraft and flew to an abandoned library awaiting reconstruction—a quiet place with few people.
The English-style library stood in a fan-shaped structure, its towering dome adorned with stained glass murals depicting humanity’s reverence for the divine.
Rows of empty bookshelves stretched toward the sky, some embedded in the walls, accessible only by spiral staircases.
Sitting on the steps of one such staircase, Harry looked down with a smile as a golden-haired man entered.
As if witnessing their fated confrontation.
"You've finally arrived."
Garius’s expression remained indifferent as his sharp gaze landed on Harry, but he said nothing.
In his hands were two lightsabers, both standard close-combat models used in District 13. Now, Garius tossed one of them to Harry and activated the weapon in his own hand.
When their eyes met, it was like a fire igniting—one side filled with bone-chilling killing intent, the other with obsessive madness.
"Oh? Planning to personally kill me in a duel?" Harry stood up with great interest, running his fingers over the blade before activating the lightsaber. He squinted at the silent man before him. "This is getting interesting."
As they locked eyes, Harry descended the steps one by one, speaking as he walked.
"Should we count down?"
"Like... 1, 2, 3—"
Clang!
Before he could finish, Harry suddenly leaped forward, bringing his lightsaber down with full force, clashing against Garius’s weapon. The impact illuminated his face, revealing a twisted grin.
Unmoved in the slightest, Garius gazed at him coldly through his thick lashes. The next second, he swung his sword in a counterattack, knocking Harry’s blade aside and swiftly slashing toward his chest!
Harry, unskilled in combat, stumbled back in an attempt to dodge, crashing into the empty bookshelves. Looking down at the fabric torn open over his chest, he burst into laughter.
"Yes, just like that! The angrier you are, the more it proves my success. All this rage you're feeling—I gave it to you! Hahaha!"
Understanding exactly what Harry meant, Garius curled his lips into an unreadable smile.
The sharp hum of lightsabers slicing through the air filled the grand library, their clashes amplified beneath the domed ceiling.
When it came to strength, speed, and combat experience, the newly-of-age Harry—who had never received proper training—was no match for Garius, who had undergone strict military discipline from a young age and survived countless assassinations and battles against death itself.
It was like a fledgling taking its first steps against a fully grown beast.
Apart from the initial exchanges, Garius effortlessly blocked all of Harry’s attacks, cutting through his elaborate garments with ease, leaving deep wounds that bled freely.
Blood dripped onto the floor, smearing across the ground under their chaotic movements.
A once-civilized library had transformed into a brutal arena, with the swordsman methodically tearing his prey apart.
Harry's breath came in ragged gasps, his hair in disarray. The pain burned through him, his vision blurring with red.
He knew that Garius only wanted to torture him, and he was prepared to die. But the agony was unbearable—he craved a quicker end. In his desperation, he lashed out with venomous words.
"Look at yourself... You still think you're some noble hero? What a joke! No one gives a damn about your sacrifices... The emperor? The ministers? They'd rather see you dead!"
"You and your family are just as delusional as the old emperor—martyrs dreaming of protecting the Empire, but in reality, you're nothing! Absolutely nothing! Disgusting!"
"Heh... heh…"
Harry gasped for breath, a sharp pain ripping through him as his stomach was pierced. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, stomach acid burning his insides, the agony almost unbearable.
Yet, despite the excruciating pain, he stared at the indifferent man before him and suddenly laughed, as if he had struck a nerve.
Look at that—he was angry.
So much for the so-called strongest! In the end, he was still being manipulated!
"I created you..."
"Garius—!! I created you!!! Hahahaha!"
"That pathetic human died at your hands, with your child still inside him… Cough, cough… I dragged him out of the safe house myself, stuffed him into the mech… I was waiting, waiting for you to kill him with your own hands…"
Clang! Clang!
With two sharp strikes, the lightsaber in Harry’s hand was knocked away.
His body could no longer support him, and he slumped against the bookshelf, blood soaking the floor around him.
Garius stepped forward, his boots leaving bloody footprints in his wake. He looked down at Harry, who was coughing up blood while laughing, and spoke in a detached voice:
"A person as vile as you should never have been born. You do not even deserve a trial."
Harry’s vision blurred, his consciousness fading. Swallowing the blood pooling in his mouth, he murmured hoarsely, "You are nothing more than… the next me…"
"No. I am not."
"I created you… You are my perfect masterpiece…"
"You created no one. I am still Garius Heine."
“…Hah. You… cough, cough… liar…”
Garius knelt down, raising his sword high, and in one swift motion, plunged it into Harry’s chest.
As the blade pierced through him, Harry’s nearly unfocused eyes remained fixed on Garius, still gleaming with twisted satisfaction.
But then—Garius leaned in and whispered in his ear:
"Joey is alive."
"?!?!"
No—impossible!
You’re lying. You’re lying!!!
Harry’s eyes widened in horror, his body convulsing as he desperately tried to see Garius’s expression. But all he caught was a slight smirk before the last breath left his body.
Even in death, his face was frozen in shock, rage, and utter disbelief.
His bloodshot eyes remained wide open—he refused to die in peace.
Garius stood, shaking the blood off his blade. He gazed at the corpse for a brief moment, then turned and walked away without hesitation.
His golden hair lifted and fell with his movements, his footsteps echoing in the empty library, fading into silence.
All that remained was a lifeless body.
At last, it was over…
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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