A cluster of yellowish-brown light representing ultimate decay emerged in Edward's palm, aimed directly at Lin Huai's heart.
But at the moment of the strike, Edward's movements suddenly halted.
His gaze slowly shifted from Lin Huai's face toward his disciple in the distance, Itmer, who had already turned into a greyish, withered stone statue. His brow furrowed slightly.
"You cannot go mad just yet."
He whispered to himself, as if pitying a piece of art about to be damaged.
"No one shall interfere with my plan, not even Them." Edward looked toward the sky.
Edward waved his hand. The lethal yellowish-brown light in his palm did not dissipate; instead, a wisp of yellow-green aura split off like a nimble little snake and instantly sank into Lin Huai's body.
Lin Huai's restrained body jerked violently.
His skin lost moisture and luster at a speed visible to the naked eye, developing the withered wrinkles of an old man. His jet-black hair seemed to have all its vitality drained, rapidly turning silver-white. His straight back began to hunch, and his vigorous life force receded swiftly like a ebbing tide.
In just a few short seconds, that young'Sage' had turned into a dying, elderly man, like a candle flickering in the wind.
Having done all this, Edward didn't even give Lin Huai another glance, as if he had merely disposed of a trivial piece of trash.
He turned slowly and walked toward Itmer step by step.
"Criminal and Prisoner are neighboring Pathways, yet you are actually on the verge of madness. That damnable Mother Tree of Desire." His voice carried a hint of undisguised hatred. "Abominable."
Edward walked up to the completely petrified Itmer and reached out to grasp the bone-white dagger buried deep in his disciple's chest.
However, the very instant His fingers touched the hilt of the dagger!
*Crack—*
The grey-brown crystals covering Itmer's body split open with a fissure without any warning.
Itmer suddenly recovered!
In his eyes, which had already grown dim, light flared up once more. Ignoring the agonizing pain in his chest, he suddenly threw his arms open, using the last of his life's strength to tightly, desperately embrace Edward in front of him!
This sudden turn of events caused Edward's movements to pause for a moment.
"Teacher..."
Itmer's voice was hoarse yet exceptionally clear. He buried his head in Edward's shoulder, like a child who had finally found his home.
"Do you still remember... when you rescued me from that trash heap?"
"You told me my eyes were particularly bright, always full of hope. You said you wanted to see... if I were to bear all kinds of pain and curses, would my eyes still be so bright?"
"At the time... I didn't understand what you meant."
"But Teacher," Itmer slowly raised his head, his aged eyes gazing almost greedily at Edward's face as a turbid tear slid down from the corner of his eye, "look at my eyes. Have the curses and time taken away the light within them?"
Edward did not struggle.
He just quietly felt the faint warmth coming from the body in his arms that was rapidly approaching death. This was merely Itmer's deathbed struggle; it was meaningless.
He lowered his head and looked carefully into those eyes so close to his own.
Those eyes were still clear, still bright.
"Indeed... they are as beautiful as they were back then." In Edward's voice, there actually surfaced a rare, almost tender hint of praise. "Full of hope for the future."
"A hundred years," he said slowly, as if giving a final summary for his proudest masterpiece. "As a Prisoner, you never indulged yourself; seeing suffering, you never stood idly by; those chaotic curses, you bore them all with your own body."
"Now, your eyes are still so bright. Your body is already broken beyond repair, yet it is still filled with... unbelievable humanity."
"I am proud to have a student like you."
Edward's voice was full of sincerity.
"However!"
His tone suddenly shifted, that tenderness vanishing instantly, replaced only by indifference and coldness.
"There is no Winner in this ritual."
"I lost to Evernight's schemes."
"You lost to my power."
He turned his head, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the figure in the distance who had aged beyond recognition, his lips curling into a cruel sneer.
"The puppet over there lost to his own overestimation of his strength."
"Teacher, you are wrong." Itmer's voice suddenly interrupted him. "Whether it's this battle or this ritual, there is a Winner, and it is you and I."
Edward didn't even have time to react to this mad statement.
*Ch—!*
The dull sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh.
Edward's body suddenly stiffened. He slowly lowered his head and saw a bone-white hilt, extremely similar to the dagger in Itmer's chest, already plunged into his own body.
The indifference and coldness on his face froze into pure shock.
"Teacher, have you forgotten?" Itmer's voice sounded in his ear, carrying a calm like the settling of dust. "These ritual daggers... were all made by me at your command."
"You... were never controlled by me?" Edward's voice was dry as he finally understood something. "How is that possible..."
"No, I was indeed controlled by you," Itmer shook his head, "but I was never *completely* controlled by you. Especially in recent years. A hundred years of pain and curses have given me an exceptionally high tolerance for Beyonder powers."
"Hahaha..." Edward suddenly began to laugh lowly. The laughter grew louder and louder until it became a manic roar, filled with self-deprecation and realization. "So that's how it is... so that's how it is! My child, I have truly lost, lost completely!"
"Then that phenomenon of you being about to go mad just now was also fake?"
"Yes, Teacher, it was all fake," Itmer admitted frankly. "I have been deceiving you for seventy years alongside Evernight and the others. Teacher, you are too arrogant."
He paused, his arms tightening around Edward with even more force.
"However, only this last thing is not a lie. I said that we are the final Winners of this ritual and this battle."
He took a deep breath and, in a voice almost like a murmur, called out the title he had buried in his heart for a hundred years.
"Teacher... no... Father."
"The debt of saving my life a hundred years ago, the debt of a hundred years of upbringing. Live on with my humanity. My name is Itmer Thornquist, and my father is Edward Thornquist. My father was never the Monarch of Decay!"
A brilliant, liberated smile appeared on Itmer's face.
"Just as you said: fate belongs to you, and the curses, I shall bear them!"
"The power of the Monarch of Decay, leave it to me to seal! Both the Prisoner and Criminal Pathways, as well as my humanity, I give them all to you! Father, goodbye."
His voice lowered, the final notes tender enough to break one's heart.
"I love you."
The moment the words fell, Itmer's body erupted with a brilliant light! It was not a black-red evil fire, but a pure, warm white holy light filled with the radiance of humanity.
The two ritual daggers stuck in his and Edward's bodies melted simultaneously in the holy light, turning into two streams of pure light representing the powers of 'Prisoner' and 'Criminal,' surging frantically into Edward's body!
Above the sky, those black wings that blotted out the sun jerked violently as if suffering a heavy blow, beginning to turn illusory.
Immediately after, another pair of new, even more magnificent wings slowly unfurled behind them!
They were a pair of giant, pale-white wings, filled with mottled yellow and grey stains, wrapped in layer upon layer of old bandages symbolizing decay and curses, yet they were permeated with love and holiness.
Prisoner and Criminal, holiness and curse, humanity and madness, all manifested above the sky in a bizarre yet harmonious way.
The ritual that had been declared a failure had restarted in a way that no one had anticipated.