The Transcendent Godslayer-Chapter 56: Weak

The world swirled in disjointed colors, a chaotic mesh of nonsense. Everything twisted in a circular motion, like staring into the heart of a whirlwind or gazing down the depths of a whirlpool.

Kallen blinked slowly and groggily, trying to make sense of what was real, and what wasn’t?

A sharp, splitting pain lanced through his skull, the relentless ringing in his ears, making it impossible to focus.

His vision wavered, dancing between clarity in one moment, and distortion in the next. But as things slowly began to make sense, his consciousness, also began slipping away.

Just before the darkness reclaimed him, he caught sight of something... someone.

A man?

The only feature Kallen truly registered about him, just before his mind shut down completely, was a pair of steely, beautiful hazel eyes staring right at him.

---

"She’s waking up!"

"We might need to call the Patriarch before she does."

"Might? He should already be here."

"Yes, ma’am."

The steady beeping of the vitals monitor filled the quiet ward, a rhythmic reminder of life lingering on the edge.

With a sigh, the auburn-haired doctor rubbed her temples and leaned against the wall, her expression a mix of exhaustion and contemplation, watching as the younger petite nurse scurried away to call in Luiz.

Her gaze shifted and finally settled on the frail woman lying in the med-bed, thoughts swirling behind her tired eyes.

Slowly, the woman stirred. Her eyelids fluttered weakly before cracking open, revealing unfocused eyes that twitched against the bright sterile lights.

The white-blue walls seemed to shift and ripple in her vision, distant and unreal, until finally, her sight stabilized.

"It’s good that you’re awake, my lady," a voice cut through her haze, pulling her back to reality.

Turning her head with effort, she met the doctor’s gaze and blinked sluggishly.

For several seconds, silence stretched between them, as if her mind struggled to bridge the gap between consciousness and comprehension.

"I’m... alive?" she murmured at last, her voice hoarse.

The doctor offered a small smile. "Yes. We did all we could." She let out a soft chuckle, though the relief in her voice was genuine.

Lyra turned her head, scanning the room. Empty.

"How’s Veronica?" she asked. For someone who had just woken up from a near brush with death, she seemed surprisingly composed.

"She’s well and being taken care of in the next room," the doctor replied.

Lyra let out a quiet sigh of relief.

She was quiet for a few seconds then her hands clenched weakly against the sheets.

Hesitatingly she spoke again, her voice quieter this time. "And my son? My husband?"

There was something in her tone; self-pity, sadness, disappointment... and resignation.

Waking up from such an encounter and not finding anybody to...

The door swung open before the doctor could respond, and Luiz stepped inside.

"Patriarch," the doctor acknowledged him with a slight bow before turning to Lyra. "If anything happens, you can call me with that button by the wall."

She nodded toward a small panel within Lyra’s reach.

Luiz gave a silent nod, and with that, the doctor excused herself, closing the door behind her.

Luiz stood there for a moment, staring at Lyra with an unreadable expression. His darkened eyes held a storm of emotions, and his face remained solemn.

He was happy she was awake, and at the same time, heavily troubled. How was he supposed to face her with his failure?

Lyra, on the other hand, looked fragile—too fragile. Her body was weak, her face pale, yet there was still that quiet strength in her gaze, that unyielding fire that hadn’t been extinguished despite everything.

She stared at him with that fiery gaze, but nothing could be discerned within them.

A long awkward silence stretched between them until Luiz finally broke it.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer to the bed. "You’re awake," he said, his voice softer than expected.

Lyra let out a breathy chuckle, but it lacked humor. "I gathered as much."

Another silence.

Then, with a mixture of hesitation and pain, she repeated, "Where is Kallen?"

Luiz clenched his jaw, struggling to stop himself from trembling.

"He’s safe," he finally said. "But..."

"But he’s not here?" she frowned. Then seemingly thinking of something,

"Is he injured?" She asked, her voice carrying quiet understanding... and worry and concern.

Luiz didn’t answer. He simply pulled a chair and sat down beside her bed.

Then clench of his jaw tightened, and strength seemed to be leaving his body quickly.

She studied him for a moment. The mighty Patriarch, the powerful leader of the Crimson family, this man who was her husband.

At this moment, he looked... burdened, tired and weak. She could even tell he was injured despite his strong front.

"Luiz," she said softly, drawing his attention as her hands traced his chin. "Tell me the truth."

He exhaled, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. "Kallen is missing." He struggled to say.

"Missing?" she whispered in surprise, not quite understanding what he meant, or perhaps, was just shocked.

"He’s missing in the whole of Xenith.

I... I have not found him... yet"

The words hit her harder than any wound. Her breath caught, her fingers clutching the sheets as her already weak heart ached in her chest.

Luiz’s expression darkened. "But I will find him," he vowed, his voice carrying the force of an unbreakable promise.

The message was shocking and frightening. Even Luiz’s sincere vow did little to ease its crushing weight.

"Missing?" Lyra’s voice trembled. "How is he missing? Is he dead? Tell me the truth, Luiz."

"No," Luiz shook his head vehemently. "He’s not dead. He’s just... missing from Crimson City. We haven’t found him anywhere on Xenith yet."

Lyra stared at him, her mind scrambling to grasp the absurdity of his words.

Kallen was missing? How was that possible?

Tears inadvertently welled up, threatening to spill over.

Her reaction, was to move, go in search, to do something. But her body betrayed her—too weak to even sit up, let alone embark on a rescue mission.

She turned her gaze back to Luiz, presently her only hope for understanding, only to see the most pathetic version of her husband she had ever known.

A war waged inside her—one part of her wanted to scream, rage, demand that he bring her son back, now. The other wanted to be the wife who understood, who saw his suffering and held him through it. But this was their son!

"I swear I will find him," Luiz vowed again. It sounded more like a plea rather than assurance, bellying a desperate need to be believed.

For now, she had no choice but to cling to that.

She swallowed, but she forced herself to nod. Because even if her body was weak, even if her heart was breaking, she had to believe. It was the only thing she could do.

She had to.

’Kallen’

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