I created my own system

Chapter 417: She will torment you

The battle was no longer bound by lingering feelings.

What remained were the duties that needed to be fulfilled.

"You heard the Second Young Master. We must help the Young Lord!"

Midgar's voice thundered across the ruined street, carrying enough authority to cut through the chaos of battle. The nearby Imperial soldiers immediately straightened. Fear and hesitation vanished from their eyes as purpose replaced them.

Armor rattled.

Boots scraped against broken stone.

Within seconds, the soldiers formed a protective circle around Eros.

As they tightened their formation, one soldier hurried forward through the crowd.

"Young Lord! I know where the barrier's core is. I can take you there!"

The declaration immediately alarmed the Aileenian forces.

Several soldiers instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons.

The reason they had managed to destroy the capital's barrier in the first place was because of a loophole left behind by their ancestors.

Emilia understood the danger immediately.

She had no idea how Eros intended to restore the barrier, but if he succeeded, the consequences would be disastrous.

The barrier would immediately recognize every enemy within its territory.

And once identified—

they would be hunted.

The safest route would have been retreat.

The sewers.

The only location where the barrier's influence weakened enough to avoid detection.

Unfortunately—

the battlefield would not grant them that opportunity.

Their enemies had no intention of allowing them to flee.

Emilia looked at Eros one final time.

The wind brushed through her silver hair.

Then she slowly closed her eyes.

When they opened again—

everything unnecessary had disappeared.

Fear.

Regret.

Hope.

None of it mattered anymore.

Only the mission remained.

"Gilgan."

The knight stepped forward immediately.

His armor clinked softly.

"Prepare everyone."

The surrounding soldiers straightened.

Weapons were raised.

Mana surged through their bodies like rivers of light beneath their skin.

The air itself seemed to grow heavier.

The battle was about to begin.

As chaos erupted below, a lone silhouette floated amidst the drifting debris.

Far away, atop the ruins of a shattered building, Apollo watched silently.

Broken stone floated around him.

Ash drifted through the air.

The distant sounds of explosions echoed across the capital.

Yet he remained perfectly still.

His golden eyes never left the battlefield below.

Waiting.

Watching.

Expecting.

His expression remained calm.

Vacant.

As though he cared little about the bloodshed unfolding beneath him.

But beneath that calm exterior—

a violent storm churned.

His gaze was sharp.

Cold.

Murderous.

"The main reason I spared her before was so you could land the finishing blow."

His voice drifted with the wind.

Soft.

Yet chilling.

His eyes remained fixed on Eros.

"Sparing her life made quite a ruckus."

A faint smile appeared.

One completely devoid of warmth.

"So, brother..."

The smile slowly vanished.

His eyes narrowed.

"Make sure I won't regret letting her live until now."

━━━━━━━━━━

EROS' POV —

The replica staff felt awkward in my hands.

Heavy.

Unfamiliar.

Yet strangely alive.

A faint pulse traveled through the weapon every few seconds.

Like a heartbeat.

Every movement felt slightly delayed.

Every spell resisted my intentions before finally obeying.

My instant incantations spun into existence, faster and stronger than ever before.

The mana density alone was overwhelming.

Is this the power of the staff?

Even a replica could reach this level.

Then how terrifying was the original?

My grip tightened unconsciously.

Father...

Are you okay?

The thought surfaced immediately.

I couldn't reach Mother.

I couldn't contact Father.

Every passing second made the anxiety inside my chest grow heavier.

Even so—

I advanced.

Fire exploded around me.

Lightning danced across shattered streets.

Wind blades sliced through the battlefield.

My sword moved in my right hand while the staff activated in my left.

For the first time in my life, both felt synchronized.

Every spell.

Every slash.

Every movement.

Perfectly aligned with my thoughts.

The battlefield trembled beneath my advance.

And as I carved a path toward you—

I prayed.

Please.

Give it your all.

Survive.

Survive my attacks so I can speak with you without placing my life on the line.

Mana surged through my body.

My blade and spells moved together.

One became an extension of the other.

Then—

Emilia appeared.

She met every attack head-on.

Our swords collided.

The impact sent vibrations through my arms.

Her footing slid backward across the broken stone.

I immediately raised the staff.

A fireball roared toward her.

The spell should have struck.

Instead—

it vanished.

Reduced to harmless sparks.

My eyes narrowed.

Searching.

Analyzing.

A flash of light pierced through the smoke.

A shield.

One that materialized seemingly from nowhere.

Artifacts.

Dozens of them.

Perhaps hundreds.

Layers upon layers of enchantments illuminated her body.

Each one activated in perfect harmony.

Each one making her stronger.

I couldn't help but frown.

Controlling even a fraction of that amount should have been impossible.

Yet Emilia wielded them effortlessly.

Then suddenly—

her blade was already aiming for my torso.

My instincts screamed.

I twisted.

Deflected.

CLANG!

Steel collided.

Sparks exploded between us.

Golden and silver fragments flooded my vision.

Neither of us stopped.

Her sword struck again.

Mine answered.

Artifacts blocked my spells.

My spells battered her defenses.

The pressure between us intensified.

Mana exploded around me.

I forced swordsmanship and magic together.

Amplifying both.

Our exchange grew fiercer.

Faster.

More destructive.

Buildings collapsed.

Roads cracked.

Windows shattered.

Yet despite the chaos—

one question continued clawing its way out of my throat.

A question I had buried for far too long.

"Why?"

The word escaped as I swung hard enough to send her flying.

Her body lost momentum.

She crashed into the ground.

Stone shattered beneath her.

I lunged forward.

My blade aimed toward her thigh.

CLANG!

Our weapons met again.

But my eyes never left her face.

Bloodshot.

Exhausted.

Desperate.

The sight twisted something inside me.

"Why did it come to this?"

I pushed her away.

Creating distance.

Then—

BOOM!

Another spell erupted nearby.

The shockwave shook the battlefield.

Emilia slid backward.

Her silver hair danced amidst the destruction.

For a brief moment—

something painful appeared in her eyes.

Something vulnerable.

Then it vanished.

"Eros."

Her voice sounded tired.

Far more tired than before.

"You really don't know anything."

My brows furrowed.

"What does that mean?"

Silence.

Then—

she laughed.

A bitter laugh.

One carrying years of exhaustion.

"The Lionheart Duchy."

My body froze.

"The suffering Apollo experienced."

The battlefield suddenly felt distant.

Muted.

Even the sounds of battle seemed to disappear.

"I know about it."

My pupils shrank.

"What?"

Emilia lowered her gaze.

"My father planned it."

Everything stopped.

The words struck harder than any attack.

Memories flashed through my mind.

Apollo.

The servants.

The punishments.

The isolation.

I searched her face desperately.

Looking for deception.

For hesitation.

For anything.

There was none.

The world tilted.

━━━━━━━━━━

Far away—

Apollo stopped breathing.

His expression lost every trace of amusement.

Shock replaced it.

Then grief.

Each word from Emilia dragged forgotten memories back into the light.

"The abuse."

Emilia continued.

"The servants."

"The rumors."

"The isolation."

"The punishments."

Her voice remained calm.

Too calm.

"As long as Apollo remained unstable, eventually he would destroy the Lionheart family from within."

Apollo's fingers twitched.

Once.

Twice.

Then began trembling.

A memory surfaced.

A locked room.

A lonely child sitting in the darkness.

Hungry.

Afraid.

Confused.

"The plan was working."

Emilia whispered.

"At first."

More memories followed.

Cruel whispers.

Disgusted stares.

People avoiding him.

Treating him like a disease.

Then—

another memory.

A maid.

A gentle smile.

Warm food secretly delivered.

Kindness.

The first kindness.

Then—

blood.

Or was it a rope?

His memories blurred together.

Confusion twisted everything.

Then came screams.

Punishments.

And a lifeless body.

Apollo's vision blurred.

His breathing became uneven.

"No..."

His whisper vanished into the wind.

His hands shook violently.

Not from fear.

Not from anger.

But from something far worse.

Understanding.

Everything suddenly made sense.

Every tragedy.

Every coincidence.

Every carefully engineered disaster.

Someone wanted it.

Someone planned it.

Someone built his suffering piece by piece.

"Then years passed."

Emilia smiled weakly.

"And nothing happened."

Her expression twisted.

Bitterness surfaced.

Then her gaze locked onto Eros.

"You know, if it weren't for that man, our plan would've worked."

Hatred flashed across her face.

"That damn wizard."

Her voice cracked.

"He came at the worst possible moment."

"Alger Thornvale."

"That old man took your brother away."

Her jaw tightened.

"And just like that..."

A bitter laugh escaped her.

"Everything crumbled."

Eros looked horrified.

"You manipulated me?"

His voice cracked.

"You included me in this torment?"

His hands trembled.

"You made me hold a whip against my own brother?"

Emilia remained silent.

The answer was obvious.

Eros staggered backward.

The staff nearly slipped from his grasp.

His face had gone pale.

Then another realization struck him.

"If that's true..."

His voice became hoarse.

"Then what else have you done?"

His eyes shook.

"Were all those years a lie?"

"Everything you did for me?"

"Every smile?"

"Every promise?"

His breathing became ragged.

"Was it all just another way to break me apart?"

For the first time—

fear appeared on Emilia's face.

Small.

Brief.

Yet undeniable.

Eros saw it.

And that was enough.

His entire world shattered.

Every memory.

Every conversation.

Every promise.

Every moment they shared.

Doubt spread through them all like poison.

And for the first time—

Eros no longer knew which memories belonged to love.

And which belonged to manipulation.