I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)-Chapter 60: The Bitter Draught of Mercy

"What do you think you’re doing?"

"Stopping you from making a mess," Cherion snapped back, his own voice shaky but determined. "Step back. Put the sword away."

Zarius’s gaze flickered to Soren, who was still pinned in the slush, a pathetic heap of trembling betrayal. "You want to forgive this? After what he’s done? After he touched you?" The sword shook, not from weakness, but from the sheer force of the Duke’s restraint.

"Forgive him? Please," Cherion scoffed, a sharp, bitter sound. "Who said anything about forgiveness? I just think your sense of justice is a bit... unimaginative. You want to take his head? That’s an escape, Zarius. It’s a ’quick out’ for a man who caused this much chaos. You kill him now, and in five minutes, he’s gone. Easy. Too easy."

He squeezed Zarius’s arm. "Give him a punishment that actually fits. Not a quick end, but a life of absolute, crushing insignificance."

Zarius tilted his head, the red light in his eyes dimming just a fraction. He was listening. The rage was still there, but Cherion’s cold, clinical logic was acting like a douse of ice water on a raging fire.

"Death is a mercy he hasn’t earned," Cherion whispered.

Slowly, the tip of the sword lowered. Zarius looked down at Soren, and for a moment, the silence of the forest was absolute.

"Elios," Zarius barked, the name cutting through the air like a whip.

"My Lord," Eliosreplied, his voice breathless as he scrambled to his feet. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"Take him. To the deepest sub-level of the Valtrane dungeons. No visitors. Not a single word is to be exchanged with him," Zarius commanded, his voice devoid of any emotion. It was worse than anger; it was total erasure. "From this moment, he has no name. He has no history. If I ever hear his name spoken within my walls again, the one who utters it will join him."

Soren screamed before anyone could stop him. It wasn’t for mercy, it was pure panic. Being killed by Zarius might have meant something, but being ignored? That hurt worse. The guards dragged him off, boots slipping in the snow as he thrashed, yelling Zarius’s name until the wind swallowed it.

Zarius turned his attention back to Cherion, his gaze softening as it traveled down. He stopped at Cherion’s feet. One was missing a slipper, the skin bruised a dark, sickly purple from the cold and the thorns.

Without a word, the Duke knelt.

It was almost absurd, this giant man, the Shield of the North, kneeling in the snow just to hold a battered foot in his hands. Zarius’s grip was firm but careful, rubbing Cherion’s sore skin with a patience that didn’t fit his usual brutal vibe.

And of course, just when it seemed like Zarius couldn’t surprise Cherion more, he just stood up and picked him up, bridal style. Cherion barely had time to protest, "Hey, hey, hey!" which, predictably, was ignored.

"I can walk," Cherion muttered, though his teeth were beginning to chatter now that the adrenaline was draining away. "Really. It’s just... it’s just a bit numb."

"Be quiet," Zarius grunted.

"Just put me down! You’re literally wounded!" Cherion kicked his legs, face turning a bright pink for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold.

"You’re not that heavy, if that’s what you’re worried about," Zarius replied, his voice sounding a bit more strained than usual, though he kept his stride steady as he headed toward the horses. "I’m taking you home, little Omega. You do want to go home, don’t you?"

Cherion opened his mouth, but Zarius’s voice, so tired, but oddly possessive, made him stop. He just shut up instead, though there was a flicker of annoyance. Yeah, this mess was indirectly caused by him. He guess could let Zarius take the responsibility this time.

By the time they reached the clearing where the soldiers were holding the horses, the world seemed to be tilting. Zarius set Cherion down near a saddle, his movements suddenly jerky. He stood there for a heartbeat, his breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches.

Out of nowhere, Zarius bent over with a violent, wet cough that shook his whole body. It sounded so bad that the horses started freaking out, whinnying like they were having a panic attack. Zarius slapped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking.

"Your Grace?" Cherion’s stomach did this slow, twisted flip.

When Zarius pulled his hand away, Cherion felt the blood drain from his face. There was dark, thick blood in Zarius’s glove, almost black, and smelling like metal and old rot. It splattered across the snow, like a spilled ink bottle on a wedding dress.

Zarius’s knees buckled.

"Your Grace!" Cherion lunged forward, catching the massive man before he hit the ground. The weight was immense, nearly pinning Cherion to the ground, but he didn’t care. He scrambled to his knees, bracing the Duke’s head against his shoulder.

Elios and the soldiers were moving fast, their boots crunching over the snow, their faces filled with alarm. Elios was the first to reach them, sliding to a halt beside Cherion. His expression hardened as he took in the scene

Cherion ripped back the collar of Zarius’s tunic, his eyes searching for the wound. There it was, a darkening, spiderweb vein was creeping away from the puncture site, turning the surrounding skin a translucent, sickly grey.

"The dagger," Cherion whispered, his voice trembling. "It was coated... gods, you idiot, it was poisoned."

Zarius leaned his forehead against Cherion’s, his skin burning hot one second and ice-cold the next. His breath was a plume of frost and copper. Zarius reached out a shaky hand to brush a stray lock of silver hair away from Cherion’s eyes.

"Don’t..." Zarius whispered, a smirk touching his blood-stained lips. "Don’t look so scared."

"Hey. Hey, no dramatic last words!" Cherion’s hands were already glowing, but the light was pathetic. It was a flickering, weak gold, no bigger than a candle flame. He was exhausted, his mana was a dry well after the day’s events. "No... no, no, no. I spent so much energy and time getting rid of your curse. I didn’t do that just for you to die from some stupid poison."

He pressed his palms against Zarius’s shoulder, pushing every last scrap of his soul into the light. The flicker of light blinked on, and then it just... exploded. Cherion’s skin started glowing, this golden warmth pouring into Zarius, pushing the dark veins away.