The Villainess is my fiance: But she is gentle towards me-Chapter 248 -: The suffered souls finally rests.

Chapter 248: Chapter: 248 The suffered souls finally rests.

The red glow slowly began to spread along the edge of the Soul Sword.

At first it was only a thin line, like a drop of blood sliding across the pure white blade. But it did not stop there.

The red light continued to move, flowing across the sword until the entire edge of the blade carried a faint crimson glow.

White and red mixed together.

The calm light of the soul... and the burning color of pride.

The air around Duke Sant trembled slightly.

Cold wind passed through the sky, carrying small flakes of snow.

Yet the snowflakes that drifted close to the sword seemed to slow down, as if the air itself had grown heavy.

Duke Sant slowly stepped forward.

His body was still covered in blood. His ribs were still broken. Each breath still hurt.

But his steps were steady.

"This is my Genesis Heart," he said quietly.

His voice was calm, but it carried a strange weight.

"Only a few people I have used it against have survived."

He lifted the sword slightly.

The red glow became brighter for a moment.

This power was the embodiment of his pride. The will that had guided him through his entire life.

And in this war—

This was the first time he was truly using it.

Or to be more precise... he had tried to use it before.

His eyes narrowed slightly as a memory crossed his mind.

He had tried many times to use it against that man.

The clown.

But every single time, the moment he tried to activate his Genesis Heart, that man would disappear.

Teleport away from the battlefield like a ghost.

As if he already knew what was coming.

Duke Sant slowly exhaled.

This time there would be no escape.

—

47 stared at the glowing sword.

Terror filled its black eyes.

The red light on the blade felt wrong. Heavy. Oppressive.

Its heart began to beat faster and faster.

Run.

The thought appeared in its mind again.

Run now.

Without wasting another moment, 47 suddenly turned its body and tried to escape.

Whosh!

But the moment it turned—

Someone appeared in front of it.

Duke Sant stood there quietly in the air.

White sword. Red glow.

Snow drifting slowly around him.

"It is time we finish this," he said calmly.

47’s pupils shrank. It quickly turned in another direction and tried to flee again.

Whosh!

Duke Sant appeared in front of it again.

47 changed direction again.

Whosh!

Again. Again.

Every single time it tried to run—

The old man appeared directly in front of it.

Like a wall that could not be passed.

47’s breathing became rough.

"Tsk."

It clicked its tongue in frustration.

Then it stopped moving.

For a moment it simply floated there in the air.

Its shoulders slowly relaxed as if it had suddenly calmed down.

"Look, Duke Sant..." 47 said.

Its voice sounded steady.

Almost calm.

But its hands were trembling slightly.

"We were trying to kill each other earlier," it continued slowly.

"But we don’t actually have any personal hatred between us."

Its mind was racing quickly.

’I cannot die here. Not yet.’

A name appeared in its thoughts.

Vern Kael.

The moment it thought of that name, anger burned deep inside its chest.

’I must live. I must kill that bastard with my own hands.’

Determination appeared in its eyes.

It looked directly at Duke Sant.

"I’m only participating in this war because I have to," it said.

"But now that I have already given my all... I can leave."

It forced a small smile.

"How about we end this feud?"

47 spread its hands slightly.

"Let’s stop here."

It waited.

But Duke Sant’s expression did not change at all.

His eyes remained calm.

Cold.

47’s throat tightened slightly.

"I know I tried to kill—"

Before it could finish its sentence—

Duke Sant spoke.

"Did you ask me for a truce when I was dying?"

47 froze.

The words struck like a hammer.

For a moment nothing came out of its mouth.

"No..." it tried to say.

But before it could explain—

Duke Sant spoke again.

"Did you show mercy when you were winning?"

His voice was still calm. But there was no warmth in it.

"I go into every battle knowing very well that I could die."

He lifted the sword slightly.

"And today was no different."

"I was ready to die."

His eyes slowly moved toward 47.

"So why are you begging now that you are losing?"

He pointed the glowing blade at him.

47 gritted its teeth. Its mind searched desperately for something.

Anything. A reason. A lie.

But nothing came.

Duke Sant spoke again.

"Were you not prepared to die?"

47’s hands clenched tightly.

"I know," it suddenly shouted.

"I know!"

Its voice cracked slightly.

"I was prepared to die!"

Its breathing became heavy.

"But before that..."

Its eyes filled with hatred.

"I must take revenge against someone."

The hatred in its gaze was deep. Dark.

"So please..."

Its voice slowly broke.

"Let me live."

For the first time—47 begged.

The words came out weak.

Almost desperate. A tear slowly formed in its eye.

But Duke Sant’s face did not change.

"I cannot do that," he said quietly.

His voice carried neither anger nor cruelty.

Only calm truth.

"I understand that you must have your own story."

He looked at 47 carefully.

"Everyone does."

He slowly lowered the tip of his sword slightly.

"But this battlefield is not a place for stories."

Snow continued to fall between them.

"It is better if you die with pride now... than spend your life chasing revenge."

47 bit down on its lower lip. So hard that blood began to appear.

A tear slowly fell from its right eye.

"Is it really better if I die?" it whispered.

Its voice sounded lost. Broken. For years...

It had chased a single goal.

Vern Kael.

That name had haunted its life.

For years it tried to reach him.

But it never could.

That man was too strong.

Too terrifying.

Even people who had surpassed the Ascended Stage could not stand under his gaze.

They would tremble. Collapse. Run.

So how...

How could someone like 47 ever reach that monster?

47 stared at Duke Sant with empty eyes.

"Would it really be better... if I just died here?"

The snow continued to fall.

Silence filled the sky between the two warriors.

One stood calmly with a sword of pride.

The other floated there with trembling hands... slowly losing the will to fight.

47 did not move for a while.

Its eyes wavered from side to side. Thoughts ran wildly inside his mind.

Run.

Beg again.

Fight.

Die.

The choices repeated again and again inside its head like echoes in an empty hall.

Then—

A voice appeared in its mind.

Soft. Familiar.

"Brother... it seems it is time to rest."

47’s body trembled slightly.

That voice...

He knew it very well.

Another voice followed.

"You are right, sister... honestly, I am tired."

47 slowly closed its eyes.

For a moment the battlefield disappeared from his mind.

Instead he saw two faint figures standing somewhere in the distance of his memory.

A young boy.

A young girl.

The boy was holding the girl’s hand.

They looked tired... but peaceful.

47 let out a long breath.

"Haa..."

The sound carried deep exhaustion.

"Is it really okay... to go without taking revenge?"

Its voice was barely a whisper.

The thought of that man appeared in its mind again.

Vern Kael.

The hatred that had burned inside its heart for years flickered again... but this time it felt weak.

47 slowly opened his eyes.

A bitter smile appeared on its face.

"Very well then..."

47 spoke quietly to itself.

"It’s not like I could defeat that bastard anyway."

His smile became slightly wider, but there was sadness inside it.

"It was just an excuse... an excuse I kept using so I could continue to live."

Another tired sigh escaped from 47’s lips.

"Haa..."

47’s shoulders slowly relaxed.

"Very well then."

47 looked directly at Duke Sant.

"Duke Sant... I accept your offer."

There was a calm smile on 47’s face now.

But 47’s eyes were still sharp.

"However..."

His fingers tightened around the handle of the Death Scythe.

"I’m not going down without a fight."

47 slowly raised the scythe.

The dark blade gleamed faintly under the gray sky.

47’s eyes met Duke Sant’s.

Two warriors.

Both wounded.

Both tired.

Both ready to end it.

"Come!!"

47 roared as it rushed forward.

The Death Scythe cut through the air as it charged.

Duke Sant’s expression also became serious.

His grip on the Soul Sword tightened.

"Very well."

His voice carried quiet resolve.

"I will use my strongest attack..."

The red glow on the sword brightened.

"To slay the strongest enemy of my life."

He stepped forward.

Then both of them moved at the same time.

BOOM!!!

The air exploded beneath their feet the moment they launched forward.

Shockwaves blasted outward.

Snow scattered in every direction.

The sky trembled as two figures rushed toward each other with terrifying speed.

Duke Sant raised his sword high above his head.

The blade pulsed with terrifying power.

White light.

Red light.

Both mixed together and shone fiercely.

47 gripped its Death Scythe tightly.

Its eyes were fierce.

Just before they collided—

47 swung the scythe.

"Slash!!"

The black blade cut horizontally through the air with full strength.

Chik!!!

The scythe passed directly through Duke Sant’s body.

But—

It felt wrong.

There was no resistance.

No impact.

Duke Sant’s figure suddenly disappeared like mist.

47’s eyes widened.

Huh...?

For a brief moment its mind went blank.

Then—

Flash.

A faint cutting sound echoed quietly in the air.

It was so soft that it almost sounded like a whisper.

47 blinked.

The world suddenly tilted.

The sky turned sideways.

Then upside down.

It felt strangely light.

Far behind him—

Something was spinning through the air.

Its own face looked back at him with a confused expression.

47’s head had been cut off.

Duke Sant stood silently in the air.

The Soul Sword rested calmly in his hand.

He slowly lowered the blade.

His voice came out soft and gentle.

"You have suffered enough in this cruel world... child."

47’s head continued to fly through the air behind him.

For a moment 47’s mind could not understand what had happened.

Then realization slowly appeared.

Duke Sant’s back was facing him now.

The old warrior looked tired... but calm.

"May you and your sister rest in peace."

Those words echoed softly in the cold sky.

At that moment—

47’s dazed mind finally cleared.

Tears slowly rolled down from its eyes.

47 did not speak.

47 did not scream.

47 only looked quietly at Duke Sant’s back.

Then his eyes slowly closed.

In the silent sky—

Both his body... and his severed head...

Fell slowly toward the frozen ground below.