Apocalypse: Starting With Three Unique Blessings-Chapter 26: Emotions And Monsters.

Augustus’s brow furrowed, a deep crease forming between his eyes as Magnus’s words sunk in. The initial piece of information had been so shocking, it had almost short-circuited his brain. He was still reeling from the first revelation, and Magnus hadn’t even given him a warning to brace himself. What could the second part possibly be? What secrets did the recording crystal hold?

A whirlwind of questions spun through Augustus’s mind, each more frantic than the last. He couldn’t grasp at any answers, any logical explanations. Steeling himself, he prepared for whatever revelation was about to come. If Magnus advised him to be ready, then he would be. He trusted Magnus implicitly, believing the young man wouldn’t offer such a warning without good reason.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Augustus said, "Alright, if you say so. I think I’m ready." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Magnus gazed at Augustus, his heart heavy with sympathy for the older man. Despite Augustus’s outward appearance of strength and resilience, Magnus knew the weight of grief he carried. He was still mourning the loss of his only son, his only child, who had perished in Gaylord’s first ambush.

While Augustus maintained a brave facade, acting as though the pain had lessened, Magnus knew that deep down, the wound still festered. He was uncertain how Augustus would react to the video, the undeniable proof of Nutgrove’s treachery and betrayal – the betrayal that led to the deaths of thousands of men from the Lancaster territory, including Augustus’s son.

How would he handle the realization that he had lived alongside, even smiled at, the man responsible for his child’s death? How would he process the sheer magnitude of the deception? Magnus knew he had to show Augustus the recording, regardless of the emotional consequences. With a resolute nod, he handed the crystal to the awakened guard standing behind Augustus, instructing him to activate it.

Every human, and some other intelligent races, born in the world of Aetherium possessed a mana core from birth. This core served as a reservoir for mana, the mystical energy that fueled their abilities. However, a small, unfortunate minority were born under dire circumstances that prevented their cores from functioning, dooming them to a life without the ability to awaken their mana.

Awakening, whether through the Trial Tower or other means, was the pivotal moment when the seemingly dormant mana core activated. It allowed individuals to sense, control, and manipulate mana, channeling it internally or externally to perform various tasks that required this magical energy.

Magnus, though possessing mana, couldn’t activate the recording crystal. His mana remained dormant, inaccessible until he underwent his own awakening. Thus, he relied on his awakened summon to activate the crystal for him.

As the summon infused the crystal with mana, Magnus turned to Augustus, gesturing toward a chair near the bed. "Please, have a seat," Magnus advised. "This isn’t information one can receive standing up."

Augustus, his curiosity piqued to an almost unbearable degree, pulled the chair closer and sat down. The build-up, the warnings, had instilled a sense of nervous anticipation within him.

Magnus, seeing Augustus settled, sighed and retrieved the activated recording crystal from his summon. Holding it aloft, a shimmering screen materialized, displaying the recorded images. As the scene began to play, Magnus frowned, his expression darkening. The video showed Nutgrove and several of his men walking, but then the image shifted, revealing a sight that made Magnus’s eyes widen in disbelief.

’Is that Gaylordia...? Isn’t that Gaylord’s territory?’ His mind reeled, a torrent of emotions washing over him.

He recognized that gate. He couldn’t mistake it. He had passed through it countless times when visiting Gaylord with Lord Arthur, the former lord of the Lancaster territory. It was the very gate his son had walked through before meeting his untimely end in the ambush. It was a place etched into his memory, a constant reminder of his loss. Seeing it again stirred a painful mix of grief and anger.

’But wait... What were Nutgrove and his men doing there? Could it be...?’ Augustus trailed off, a chilling realization beginning to dawn on him. He desperately hoped he was wrong.

His hopes were soon dashed. As the video continued, his worst fears were confirmed. A wave of weakness washed over him. His breath hitched, his legs felt like lead. He was grateful he was sitting; he doubted he could have remained standing through this revelation.

The video played on, each frame a fresh blow. A storm of emotions raged within him. Tears, unbidden, streamed down his face, landing on his clothes and the floor, but he seemed oblivious to them, lost in the shattering truth.

He was shattered. Utterly and completely shattered. His body felt weak, his bones like jelly, too weak to even react, to express the maelstrom of emotions raging within him. He couldn’t even pinpoint what he was feeling. Grief, betrayal, confusion, anger – they all warred within him, leaving him numb and disoriented.

His mind felt like a bowl of soggy soup, unable to process the information he had just received. His eyes, hollow and filled with tears, stared blankly at the screen, even after the video had ended. He just sat there, body weak, mind blank, his spirit hollowed out, staring into the empty space where the images had played.

Magnus watched Augustus, his heart breaking for the older man. This revelation seemed to hit him harder than the news of his son’s death. And why wouldn’t it? It was a far more devastating blow to learn that he had spent years trusting, confiding in, and sharing both struggles and joys with the very person responsible for his son’s death. The betrayal cut deeper than any blade.

Magnus understood the thoughts that must be tormenting Augustus. He was likely blaming himself for his son’s death, for not seeing Nutgrove’s treachery sooner. If he had, his son might still be alive. Why hadn’t he noticed the signs? Why hadn’t he seen through the deception? But the truth was, no one could have.

Nutgrove wasn’t particularly well-liked. He was rude, arrogant, and possessed a personality that grated on many. But no one would have suspected him capable of such a heinous act. He was almost excessively patriotic, a man who seemed to live and breathe for the territory. He could be difficult, even obnoxious, but no one would have imagined him harboring such treacherous intentions.

Magnus knew he had to do something, anything, to help Augustus. "Augustus," he said gently, "this is not your fault. Nutgrove and his men were careful, meticulous in their deception. You can’t blame yourself. You weren’t the only one fooled. Thousands in the Lancaster territory were deceived by him."

His words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Augustus remained unresponsive, his gaze empty, as though he hadn’t even heard Magnus speak.

Magnus continued, offering words of comfort, hoping to reach the distant Augustus, but nothing seemed to penetrate the wall of grief and shock that surrounded him.

Minutes ticked by, and finally, Magnus elicited a reaction, though not the one he’d hoped for. Augustus turned his head slowly, mechanically, like a puppet on strings. Tears streamed down his face, soaking his clothes. His lips trembled as he struggled to form words.

Finally, in a choked whisper, he managed to ask, "W... Why?"

Magnus looked at Augustus, his heart shattering into a million pieces. He didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why Nutgrove had done it. Perhaps greed, a personal vendetta, or something else entirely. He had no clue what motivated such a betrayal.

Without a word, Magnus stood and walked over to Augustus, pulling him into a tight embrace. It was the only comfort he could offer in that moment. Words failed him.

Augustus clung to Magnus, returning the embrace with equal fervor. It was as if a dam had burst. Sobs wracked his body, tears and mucus soaking Magnus’s robe. Magnus didn’t care. He held Augustus close, allowing him to release the pent-up emotions he had held inside for so long. Minutes passed before the storm of grief began to subside.

Finally, Augustus pulled away, his face streaked with tears, his body exhausted. He excused himself, explaining that he needed to go home and clear his head. He also needed to find a way to break the news to Margaret, his wife.

Magnus didn’t try to stop him. He instructed his summon to escort Augustus home. Then, he began to undress, Augustus’s tears and mucus having completely soiled his robe. He didn’t mind.

"Now, time to get going," he muttered to himself, his voice filled with a steely resolve as he donned a clean robe. His face hardened with determination. There was work to be done.