Read Novel Full Chapter 398: Why?
Chapter 398: Chapter 398: Why?
Chapter 398 – Why?
"Now, tell me why?"
The voice boomed through the darkness, echoing like the faraway howls of thousands of wolves at the same time.
The man — the one who had killed the old woman — with yellow wolf-slitted eyes, black hair, and a slender build, needed to clench his jaw tight in order not to kneel on the ground at the sound of it.
He was standing in the middle of a space where barely anything could be seen except darkness. Darkness so deep and palpable that it felt like it was going to seep inside of him, suffocating him from within.
The only thing one could perceive in that strange place was a stark white pair of eyes with grey slitted pupils piercing through the darkness and staring at him.
Beneath those eyes was the same grey wolf that had eaten the head of the old woman. The messenger of the King, and the King himself.
"I am afraid, Great Father, I do not understand your question." The man, Bari Wolfson, First Prince of the Kingdom and known as the First Fang, said.
"How did you all come to an agreement on the matter?" The King asked again, patient. "How did you choose Old Sara as a sacrificial lamb?"
Bari’s thick black eyebrow subtly arched upward. Immediately after, he regained control of himself, hiding the flicker of surprise from his demeanor.
"I do not understand." He repeated, lowering his head slightly. "The old woman was guilty of—!"
"Bari."
The First Fang shuddered at the cold, emotionless tone of his father.
"Do not take me for a fool in your game. I asked you twice. I will do so a third time."
He paused, his grey slitted pupils narrowing. Beneath him, the grey wolf opened its mirror-like eyes and snarled, sharp teeth still red with blood, sending a chill down Bari’s spine.
Cold sweat trickled down his back.
"How did you come to an agreement regarding her?"
Bari fell silent, twisting his lips again and again to steady the pounding of his heart.
’So he knew.’
His father knew the old woman was innocent, yet he had not hesitated for even a second to have her killed.
For a brief instant, Bari felt the kind of fear one experienced when facing the unknown.
A thing, a person, a concept for which no information or patterns existed.
That was how King Fenrir felt to Bari. He was like a void.
If Bari knew nothing of his father, then standing before him felt like nothing could ever be hidden from the King.
There was nothing more terrifying than facing his father, King Fenrir.
Nothing at all.
And yet, here he was.
Subtly cracking his fingers, the First Fang gathered himself and answered the King’s question.
"It was done through a game of cards." He said, sighing afterward.
"Tell me the details." The King ordered.
Nodding, the First Fang continued. "We gathered all the servants of the royal court, then divided them into those who had access to the deeper layers of the court and those who did not."
The grey wolf growled faintly, then closed its eyes again.
’No lies detected.’ Bari thought, then continued.
"After selecting those with access, we assigned each of them a card. Then one card was chosen to decide the culprit."
"And Old Sara was the unfortunate winner?" The King’s voice sounded almost amused by the cruelty of the game.
"Yes." Bari nodded. "It was all coincidence."
"Coincidence?" The King’s eyes narrowed. "You prove your foolishness by thinking that way. But it matters not, son. It matters not."
"The question is, do you know the culprit?"
"I do not, Father." Bari answered, then quickly added, "But we are searching. We have—!"
"You are one of the cards." The King said, cutting him off sharply.
Bari froze, his heart thundering in his chest. "What?"
"You are one of the cards, son. Inform your faction as well. Each of them represents a card. And in two weeks, if my RingofRagnarok is not returned to my finger..."
The King’s eyes squinted with pure cruelty.
"Then a card will be chosen. And I do not need to tell you, my son, what happens to the chosen card. You created the game, if I recall correctly."
Bari stood stunned, eyes wide, staring at his own father threatening his life over a ring.
One goddamn ring.
Beneath the King, the wolf opened its eyes once more, cracked its jaws wide, and howled from the depths of its throat.
The sound thundered through the entire Capital of the Kingdom, and in a horrifying chorus, the howls of countless wolves answered, echoing endlessly.
Bari dug his sharp nails into his palms.
Blood splattered onto the ground.
He knew what that howl meant. And it was nothing short of a nightmare.
The King’s word had been spoken. And nothing would stop him from upholding it.
Bari bowed his head deeply and spoke, forcing his voice to remain steady.
"Understood, Great Father."
Then he turned and walked away, feeling the piercing stare of his father burning into his back.
He cursed inwardly, his eyes filled with a tangled knot of fear and hatred.
...
On one side of Fenrir City, standing at the bridge separating the capital from the Rotten Wolves, a young man — the grandson of Old Sara — watched as the body of his grandmother was in the process of being gnawed apart by dozens of wolves.
He did nothing. He simply watched, his eyes growing deader and redder with every passing moment.
The young lad was not watching because he fancied seeing his grandmother devoured, but simply because he had no choice but to do so.
No one in the city had the right to enter the territory of the Rotten Wolves. This was the side of the capital where wolves born with disabilities were sent.
Looking at them, none of them were whole.
Some had only one leg, others were blind, others limped, and so on and so on.
This was their territory, and their only meals were the bodies of those sentenced to death by the King.
Slowly but surely, the old woman’s body began to dwindle, her flesh eaten away by merciless, hungry jaws.
One wolf ripped open her stomach, letting her organs and intestines spill onto the ground like water on dry soil. Then they began to gnaw on them with dark glee.
The young man, named Loup, watched the event silently.
No tears were shed, yet it looked as though no one in the world was more woeful than him at that instant.
He slowly turned his head to look behind him. There, he saw the people of Fenrir walking leisurely, going about their lives as if nothing had happened.
He saw some smiling, as if life itself were a joke made just for them. Children ran around with glee shining in their eyes, little wolf cubs trailing behind them.
Loup took all of this in, and a realization crashed down on him like a hammer blow.
’The world... is not stopping.’
It seemed obvious, yet it was not to Loup.
His grandmother, his only family, had died mercilessly, her body now being swallowed by starved wolves.
He was alone in the world in every sense of the word, his heart shattered into thousands of pieces, his eyes seeing nothing ahead but bleakness and dread.
It felt as if the world itself were ending.
And yet, the world went on.
People did not stop their activities because of his sorrow.
They did not stop smiling and playing because he was dying inside.
They did not stop pursuing their dreams while his own had been snuffed out.
And they did not stop loving, even as his heart became drought of any feeling except endless woe.
At that realization — that deeply humbling understanding that one’s pain meant nothing to the world — a question inevitably surfaced in Loup’s mind as his knees buckled and hit the ground.
He slumped inward, burying his head deep against his chest, choking on his breath as hot, heavy tears finally spilled from his eyes.
’Why me?’
He asked the question while weeping like a baby abandoned at birth.
Why him, of all people?
Why did everyone else have a happy family, another day to live with a smile, while he did not?
His sobs became audible.
"W-Why..." Loup cried. "Why m—!"
"Why not you?"
Everything froze as a soft, almost playful voice interrupted Loup’s spiral into despair.
Startled, he snapped his head upward and found himself face to face with a beautiful young girl with white hair and white eyes, a smile resting on her lips.
"W-What?" Loup stammered, scrambling backward in panic, his palms reddening against the ground.
The girl followed him with light steps, hands clasped behind her back, until Loup’s back collided with a tall, glowing pillar.
She stopped an inch away from him, cocked her head, and looked down at him.
Her smile widened.
"Why not you?"
—End of Chapter 398—