Last Gun Alchemist-Chapter 58: Stage Six – A child’s Desire

Ezra stared at the man seated at the head of the dining table.

The man’s white hair flowed neatly down his back, except for a streak of black at the right front, tied into a thin strand that brushed against his cheek like a deliberate mark of distinction. The rest of his hair was tied tightly, disciplined—just like him.

His black eyes were cold.

Not angry, just judging.

He wore a long black frock coat, pressed perfectly without a wrinkle. Under it lay a black waistcoat, and beneath that a white shirt, a white cravat was knotted tightly at his throat, Black trousers, Polished black shoes, and a silver pocket watch hung neatly from inside his coat, its chain glinting faintly under the chandelier light.

At his side stood a butler, posture straight, holding the man’s black top hat with both hands.

The entire room felt heavy.

Then...

A sudden splash.

Cold.

Ezra flinched violently as icy water drenched his body.

The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stumbled back. His coat, gloves, and the scarf around his shoulders were instantly soaked.

"Huh...?!"

His teeth began to chatter immediately while his body shook uncontrollably from the shock of the cold.

"Didn’t you hear Father?"

A boy’s voice, close to his age and a voice, ever so familiar.

Ezra lifted his head slowly, his cheeks red from the cold, his nose tingling.

He saw the boy’s shoes first, then his legs.

Then...

His own face.

Almost.

Same eyes, same hair and same frame.

But the expression was different.

A smug grin.

Zara?.

"Look at you," Zara said, looking down at him with clear amusement. "Acting sick already."

"Zara!"

A woman rushed forward, gathering Ezra carefully into her arms.

"Why would you pour water on your brother when you know his condition?!" she scolded sharply.

Zara placed both hands behind his head and looked away, whistling like he hadn’t heard anything.

"I’m talking to you, Zara!" she raised her voice.

"Maid!" she ordered quickly. "Bring a blanket and light the chimney immediately!"

Zara’s jaw tightened slightly.

"Mum, I didn’t do anything," he said with annoyance. "It was just water."

"Just water?!" she turned on him again.

"Enough."

The word slammed across the room.

Ezra’s father struck the table with his palm and everything went silent, even the maid, who had been rushing in with a blanket, froze and bowed her head.

His father stood slowly and looked at Ezra.

And that look...

It wasn’t anger. It was disappointment.

"You are so pathetic to be my son," he said calmly.

The words cut deeper than shouting ever could.

The butler handed him his top hat, without another glance, he walked out.

The butler followed behind him.

The door closed.

Only then did the maid rush to Ezra’s side, draping the blanket over him. His mother rubbed his arms quickly, trying to generate heat, then lifted him into her embrace.

Zara stood a short distance away.

Watching.

His eyes were filled with something darker than teasing.

Envy.

"Zara," his mother said coldly, "I will deal with you after I finish taking care of your brother."

She carried Ezra away while the maid followed.

Zara clicked his tongue and kicked the chair Ezra had been sitting on. "Tsk."

***

What is going on? Why am I back here? No... when did I come back? What happened to the Trials?

Ezra’s thoughts spiraled out of control.

His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears — thump, thump, thump — so loud it felt like the entire room could hear it.

"Argh..."

He squeezed his eyes shut as a sharp pain stabbed through his head, like something was forcing memories in and ripping others out.

"You’ll be fine, my little baby."

His mother’s voice was soft.

Warm, too warm.

He felt her fingers rubbing something thick onto his cheeks, a heating cream. The scent rose into his nose. Medicinal. Familiar.

He was sitting on a rug near the chimney fire. The flames crackled gently. The heat licked his damp skin, slowly chasing away the cold.

They were in the living room.

The large living room of the Ashenlocke household.

Golden patterns decorated the edges of the chairs. Silver trims curled along the walls. The chandelier above shone warmly. Old collections of metals and crafted relics rested neatly in glass cases around the room.

Everything was arranged perfectly.

Nothing was out of place.

This is definitely my living room.

Ezra looked around slowly.

His gaze moved from the carvings on the chimney... to the pattern on the carpet... to the tall mirror hanging against the far wall.

It felt like he was seeing it for the first time.

His mother noticed.

"What’s wrong?" she asked gently, pulling him closer.

She hugged him against her chest, soft, warm and real.

Her black hair brushed lightly across his forehead.

Her heartbeat was steady.

The warmth he felt was real, too real.

Ezra’s eyes widened slightly.

"Didn’t I just leave the fifth stage room?" he blurted out suddenly.

His mother froze for a split second.

"Fifth stage?" she repeated.

Her hand moved to his forehead again. "What are you talking about?"

Her brows knitted together in worry.

He’s burning up. Does fever cause delusions like this? she thought anxiously.

"Should I bring your medicine?" she asked softly. "You’ve already eaten."

Ezra just stared at her.

Silent.

Was everything just a dream? Was the Trial a hallucination? I’m back home, back with Mum, back to warmth, back to food, back to this cold and suffocating house, but... back.

Yes, Father’s stare is still sharp. Zara is still annoying. Nothing has changed, but I’m back from that hell hole. Back from that nightmare.

His chest tightened; tears almost formed.

For a brief moment...He wanted it to be true.

Then...

His eyes drifted to the mirror; he saw himself.

Small, thin and weak.

Exactly as he looked before the Trial began.

"I’m back to how I looked before the Trial commenced..." he whispered.

"What Trial?" his mother asked again, more alarmed now.

Ezra let out a small laugh.

At first it was weak, then it grew louder.

Then louder.

It echoed strangely in the room.

Zara appeared at the doorway, peeking in.

"Why are you laughing like an idiot?" Zara asked, annoyed.

Ezra slowly slid down from his mother’s arms.

"Ezra!" she gasped.

He stood on his own feet. "They almost had me," he muttered.

His expression shifted.

"But honestly... this is infuriating."

His eyes darkened.

The warmth in the room began to feel suffocating.

Kill intent seeped into his gaze like black smoke spreading from a cracked seal.

"To think..." he whispered slowly, "that you would bring me back to this nightmare."

He stared at Zara.

Zara’s smug expression faltered.

He stumbled backward and fell to the floor.

Fear filled his face.

Ezra turned his head slowly toward his mother.

"I fought through the first Trial. I fought through the second and I survived the third and fourth."

His breathing was calm, too calm.

"And you think... an illusion about the people who abandoned me..."

His voice dropped. "...would be enough to trick me?"

He began laughing again, but it was not laughter filled with joy.

It was hollow and broken.

"I’m going to kill you."

His mother’s face drained of color.

Kill?

"Ezra... what are you saying?" Her voice trembled.

She reached out to hold him.

He stepped back. "Wait for me," he said quietly.

"When I make it out alive."

He pointed at Zara.

"All of you."

"Eh?" Zara stared at him, completely confused.

"Father," Ezra continued calmly.

Then he turned to his mother.

He smiled at her softly, too softly.

"And you."

Her body shook.

"I’ll kill you all."

Silence.

His gaze was steady and cold.

"That is the reality I have accepted," Ezra said quietly. His voice did not shake.

"Just like how you all accepted that I was good enough to be a sacrifice... I will return the favor."

His smile did not reach his eyes.

"Wait for me patiently."

He stopped speaking.

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then...

Crack.

A thin fracture appeared across the wall behind his mother.

Another crack stretched from the ceiling to the floor, splitting the golden ornaments in half. The chandelier above began to distort, bending unnaturally as if reality itself was warping.

Zara’s face flickered.

His mother’s expression trembled like broken porcelain.

More cracks spread.

The fireplace flame froze mid-air, the silver trims fractured and the entire room began breaking apart like a mirror struck by a hammer.

Then...

Everything shattered.

Light burst through the cracks and the illusion collapsed into pieces.

Ezra opened his eyes.

He stood inside a vast open chamber. Tunnel light poured down from above, bright and white. A thin layer of fog rolled along the stone floor, brushing lightly against his boots.

Silence, Cold.

"To think the sixth stage is about illusions," he muttered, clicking his tongue.

"I don’t know what kind of illusion that was... but that was definitely a nightmare."

His fist tightened slowly.

"This shitty family really knows how to surprise me."

His voice was steady, but something dark flickered behind his eyes.

"I thought I had done well forgetting those people."

He paused.

The fog drifted slowly past his legs.

"But now I have to remember their faces again."

He exhaled sharply.

"No... actually, this is good."

His gaze hardened.

"I always avoided thinking about what would happen after, if I survived this Trial and met them again."

He lifted his head slightly.

"I’m glad nothing has changed."

His eyes sharpened like steel.

"I’m going to murder every one of them."

There was no hesitation in his tone, no shouting, just his own undying fact.

Ezra let out a slow breath.

Then he looked around.

Aliya, Bobby and Lime.

All three stood still.

Unmoving, smiling faintly.

"They’re still trapped," Ezra said calmly, as if he hadn’t just spoken about killing moments ago.

He walked toward Aliya first.

She was standing there with a dreamy smile on her face, cheeks pink.

"Ezra... stop it... you and Sir Veda can take turns..." she giggled softly.

Ezra blinked once, then stared at her.

"The hell?"

Without hesitation, he flicked her forehead with his finger, slightly enhanced with Cognis.

Boom.

The force snapped her head back and she fell onto her butt.

"Ahhh!" she shouted, grabbing her forehead as her eyes flew open.

"Who did that?!"

She looked around angrily.

Ezra rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So that works."

Aliya’s gaze landed on him.

"Ezra..."

Her expression shifted from surprise... to realization... to horror.

Her cheeks turned even redder.

She must have said something embarrassing.

"Shit," she muttered, quickly turning her face away.

Ezra didn’t bother responding.

He walked toward Bobby and Lime, who were still frozen in place.

Flick.

Flick.

"Argh!" both boys yelped at the same time, clutching their foreheads as they woke up.

"You’re awake now," Ezra said, folding his arms.

Bobby blinked several times, looking around the chamber.

"It... was all a dream..."

His voice sounded disappointed.

Lime rubbed his forehead.

"I knew it was too good to be true," he muttered. "After all those life-threatening moments, I should have known happiness like that wouldn’t last."

"But does that mean we passed Stage Six?" Bobby asked uncertainly.

"Yes," Ezra answered simply.

"Ahhhh..." both boys sighed heavily in relief.

Lime glanced at Aliya because she was unusually quiet.

"What happened to you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Eh?" Aliya stiffened. "Nothing. Mind your business, Lowline."

"Huh? I was just checking on you! Why do you have to be mean!"

"Check on yourself!"

"Wait," Bobby interrupted, staring carefully at Aliya’s ears, which were still pink.

"Don’t tell me your dream was about..."

He slowly turned his head toward Ezra.

Then back to Aliya.

"You must have said something didn’t you?" he looked at her suspicious.

"Nooooooo!!" Aliya jumped to her feet instantly.

"I didn’t say anything!"

She shot a nervous glance at Ezra.

Ezra turned his head slowly to look at her.

His face held exaggerated disgust.

Aliya froze.

Oh no. He must have definitely heard something.

Her lower lip trembled dramatically.

Tears gathered in her eyes.

"Noooo! Aliya, you idiot!"

She covered her face in embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Ezra just stared at her for a moment...Then turned away calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened at all.

The fog continued drifting quietly across the floor.

The Sixth Stage was over.