Reincarnated As The Villainess's Son

217  Breaking Relations [3]

"Yeah, kill yourself." Aimar grumbled as I sat beside him, crossing my legs.

I chuckled as I touched the grass I was sitting on, his words didn't affect me, or to be more precise, no words seem to affect me much now.

"...I met with Seth's family," I whispered softly as I looked at him, "...They seem to be doing fine for now."

"..."

He didn't reply but curled his knees to his face, wrapping his hands around them.

"...His mother is kind of sweet," I continued, his silence not bothering me much, "...She talked nicely and told me a lot about Seth."

"...Like what?" he muttered under his breath.

"Like he never told his family how we wanted to meet them," I replied, glancing up at the sky, "...He also never mentioned me to his mother."

"...I see."

A silence lingered between us before I asked something that had been eating me up inside.

"...About Aaliyah's family," I whispered, my voice barely audible, "...How are they?"

"Althea hasn't left her room for a while now," he replied solemnly, "...I haven't heard much from her parents."

I nodded my head in response as I touched the bracelet I was wearing.

Two glasses along with a bottle of wine materialized from it as I placed them on the ground.

"When were you discharged?" Aimar asked as I poured wine for both of us.

"Yesterday evening," I replied, picking up one glass and passing it to him, "...I wasn't really discharged, though. I just ran away."

"...."

He looked at me weirdly while taking the glass from me.

"...You're a lot calmer than I thought," Aimar commented while sipping the wine, "...I thought you would be crying your eyes out."

"I could say the same for you," I mumbled while gulping down the wine.

"I don't have tears left now," he replied, his voice barely audible as he trailed off.

"Good for you," I mumbled softly, nodding in response.

A silence lingered between us, and we both continued to drink without exchanging words.

Maybe it was because of the guilt I felt, or maybe because his calmness was making me uncomfortable. I couldn't help but tell him this.

"I couldn't even last one slap from that woman," he replied, his voice filled with self-pity, "...Who am I to be angry with when you did your best?"

"...I see," I whispered weakly, nodding my head.

Aimar drew in a deep breath as he softly asked, "...Did he have any last words?"

"...He told me to protect you," I replied, placing the empty glass on the ground, "...He told me to protect what he held dear."

...And I failed miserably at it.

I couldn't protect Aaliyah even though he entrusted her to me.

Just like that, I'll have to live with that regret for the rest of my life.

A sniffling sound brought me out of my thoughts.

I turned to look at Aimar, tears pooling in his eyes.

"Hey, hey," I whispered as I stood on my knees, walking closer, "Are you an idiot? Stop crying."

But my words seemed to affect him more as he started to cry harder.

I placed both my thumbs under his eyes as I wiped his tears. "Stop crying. Men don't cry."

"...I miss him," he choked out as he hugged me, "...I miss him so much."

I hugged him back while rubbing his back to calm him down.

A few minutes passed like that before he finally calmed down a little and parted from me.

I sat down again as I poured wine for both of us.

"Do you know what happens when someone dies in this world?" I asked as I passed him the wine.

"...What?" he asked, his voice heavy from crying.

"...They go to hell to get judged for their sins," I whispered, taking a sip of the wine,

"If the soul has more good deeds than sins, it gets reincarnated directly, and if not, they go deeper into hell."

Last night, I pestered El to tell me everything he could, especially about souls and reincarnation.

"What about heaven?" he asked, looking at me, "...When does a soul go to heaven?"

"...That's a misconception," I replied with a chuckle, "Mortals don't deserve to enter heaven."

"..."

"And you know the interesting thing," I continued as I looked at him, "...It takes at least ten years for a soul to be judged after entering hell."

"...Why are you telling me this?" he finally asked, feeling confused by my words.

I drew in a deep breath as I softly replied, "...As soon as I reach High Overlord rank... I'm bringing Oliver's soul back."

"..."

He silently turned to look at me, and I could see different emotions flashing across his eyes.

"...Have you finally turned retarded?" he asked, glaring at me, "Do you even know who judges a soul?"

"Ereshkigal," I replied with a light shrug, "She's the sister of Drak Trinity's Ishtar."

"And she's a literal goddess," he rebuked, shaking his head, "Are you even listening to what you're saying?"

"I am," I calmly replied as I gently stood up and walked towards the grave, "...I know exactly what I'm saying."

[...You can't win against her by just being a High Overlord.]

'...Who wants to win against her? I just want Oliver's soul back.'

And if things turn south, I can always bargain with her.

I have enough information about Ishtar to do so.

[...You can't bargain with that being.]

'...I know I can't, but that woman can.'

[...You can't be serious.]

'....'

I've been used by her enough times, and if I can, I'll definitely use her as my scapegoat from now on.

"Do you even know how to get there without dying?" Aimar asked as I gently kneeled beside the grave.

"...Well, it's easy," I replied, wiping away the dried leaves, "...I just need to dig a grave for it."

"Whose?"

"Moshel's grave."

"...."

I silently cleaned up the grave, letting my words sink in.

It didn't take him long to understand.

"Have you gone mad!?" he yelled, grabbing my shoulder, "...Do you forget how important that tombstone is for this empire?"

"Oh, you know another little secret?" I asked with a light smile as I leaned closer, "...This foolish empire is protecting nothing." n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"Huh?" he let out a startled voice as he looked at me in confusion, "...What do you mean?"

"Moshel's body is already stolen," I dropped the bomb, making his face go blank, "...This empire is protecting nothing but an empty grave."

"..."

Aimar silently took a step back, trying to process my words.

"You know how they say his body is the thing that stops the gate of hell from opening?" I continued as I looked at him, still confused,

"...They're wrong. Moshel's Sword Maiden is the one who stopped it from opening single-handedly."

I sighed as I noticed his blank reaction.

Maybe I said too much.

He needs time to understand, and I don't think telling him about Moshel was the right thing.

'...Now that I think about it, does that woman know about this or not?'

She did recognize Muspelh and Neplh from what I know.

So, does she know about this as well or not?

"I will come with you." I turned to look at Aimar again as he whispered softly.

"No." I refused immediately, "...I don't think you should—"

"Azariah," he said, his voice cold as I looked at him, "...I will come with you." He repeated.

"...."

But what took all my interest were his eyes.

...Those eyes.

They were glowing golden.

"...Horus's eyes."

I whispered, recognizing them.

...But how?

"Since when?" I asked, a swirl of confusion filling my mind.

"...It's been a while," Aimar replied as he blinked them back to normal, "...I got them as well."

Unfolding his shirt, he showed me a familiar tattoo.

"...Little grey."

I whispered, bringing my hands close to my mouth.

...Is he sharing it with Oliver?

No, he's dead. Does that mean he inherited it from him?

"Are you alright?" I asked with concern, walking closer, "Do you have any strain or mental pressure using the eyes?"

"No, I don't feel anything like that," he replied calmly, shaking his head, "...But sometimes, these eyes show me nothing but darkness."

"..."

I slowly sat down on the ground, trying to think about his words.

...Why doesn't he have the same symptoms Oliver had while using those eyes?

In the first place, how did this even happen?

[...Same mana signature, they were twins.]

"...."

Aimar sat down beside me, picking up the bottle of wine and gulping it down.

We sat quietly for a while before I asked, "...How long are you going to stay here?"

"I don't know," he replied gazing up at the dark sky.

"I see."  I wishpered softly.

.....

Hours turned into days as we sat beside his grave.

And before we know it.

Three months have already passed.

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