Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power

Chapter 472: Chapter 472: Don’t Forsake Me

Chapter 472 – Don’t Forsake Me

Sky and Keisha lay together on the dirty floor, mouths open and steaming, faces slick with sweat after an intense session of deep indulgence.

Now they stared blankly at the ceiling, eyes lost in what they had just lived — the overwhelming pleasure of being consumed by passion, leaving nothing else in the mind to think about, slowly dissipating like sand through the cracks of fingers.

They wished for more. They wished that feeling would never stop, never fade. They wanted nothing but to be swallowed by it, because oh...they had tasted the forbidden fruit.

There was no going back now, even if they had wanted to. And that was the dreadful part. They didn’t want to.

At least, Keisha didn’t.

Sky’s head, though, was steadier. His will to achieve his goal had not been tarnished by passion.

Not yet.

So he let out a shaky breath, wafting away the lingering heat, and spoke.

"In two days." He declared, letting Keisha rest her heavy head on his chest. "In two days I will go meet the Heir."

"Will you be alright?" She murmured, tracing slow circles on his chest with her finger, her eye still not fully sated. Dragon’s hunger was pitiless, they said.

"I don’t want to lose you, Sky. You are the only person I have now. The only one."

"Don’t say that." Sky grimaced, face twisting with dissatisfaction. "You are making it sound like you love me."

"I do love you."

"You don’t, Keisha."

"I do." She insisted. "I love you the way a cripple loves the stick that helps him walk."

Sky sneered. "So you don’t love me. You love my role. You love what I bring into your life."

"Sexual pleasure." She confirmed plainly.

"You are far gone." He muttered. "But who am I to say? I am no better. We—!"

"The same." Keisha cut in, glancing at him. "So don’t get yourself killed by the Heir through your own arrogance. We have vengeance to deliver."

"And deliver we shall." Sky said, his tone final.

The two fell into mutual silence, the only sounds being their breathing and the soft scratch of Keisha’s nails against Sky’s skin.

The two new companions had said everything that needed saying.

They had clarified what they were to each other. They had a way forward. And most importantly, they had something to keep themselves moving despite the bleakness bleeding through everything around them.

Yes, everything was settled. Everything but one thing.

A question.

One neither of them wished to ask, yet it grew louder and louder with each passing second, amplified by their doubts and fears.

After all of this...what?

What would happen to them if they ever managed to deliver their vengeance?

Would they be able to make peace with themselves, live new lives, reborn and hopeful for a future?

Keisha didn’t know. Sky didn’t know.

They simply didn’t know.

And that unknown summoned a wave of uncertainty and existential dread that drove them both to the same conclusion to cast everything aside and exist only in the moment.

"Let’s die delivering it." Keisha said suddenly, grinning with a touch of madness. "Don’t you find it poetic? Chances are, Sky, we would be sung as heroes if we managed that."

"Who cares about being heroes."

"Only fools and children still at their mother’s breast." Keisha chuckled. "But there are benefits. It would be perfect — truly perfect — if two monsters, hearts sick with desire, souls rotted through with vengeance, ended up remembered as heroes."

She let out a slow breath. "And it’s easier than it sounds."

"We just need to die while taking down the bad guys." Sky guessed. "And with the right whispers, anyone can be made the villain."

"True. That would be the irony of the era." Her voice carried a strange excitement. "So what do you say? Let’s die, Sky. But let’s do it in a way that makes all of them twist in their graves."

Sky closed his eyes at her words and muttered slowly.

"If all my tasks are done, why not?"

Keisha laughed, the dread of an unknown future evaporating as if it had never existed.

After all, there was no future to fear if you made sure you had none.

And just like that...

"Let’s do it again."

The flame of passion burned hotter, hotter, and still hotter.

...

Meanwhile, deep in Order Orion, inside the tidy and luxurious room of Laly — where a sweaty, musky scent hung in the air — Tristan sat on the bed, back against the headboard.

A bedsheet covered his lower half. His chest was bare, and the clear evolution of his body was visible with a set of compact muscles that could only come from hard, deliberate work.

His head was tilted upward, his eyes swimming with emotions few could name. He smiled, yet his eyes grew sadder and sadder with each second. And underneath that sadness lived something else.

A deep resentment. One that had been festering for years with no outlet, growing stronger and fiercer.

But recent events, and those yet to come, no longer required self-control.

There was no need for it anymore. Uncle Azad was dead.

’After Mariam... after Mariam, it’s you, Uncle.’

It hurt so much. It hurt to watch the best of them be the first to go, every single time.

Mariam — the gentle, shy girl — was no more. The one who would heal your wounds while crying over them, not her own. The girl who would giggle and bow her head in shy gratitude every time he cooked for her.

That was the person who died. The best of them.

Now the second best had followed.

Uncle Azad. The falsely wise, talkative old man who loved handing out advice on life while being thoroughly lost himself.

Tristan had once pointed that out. And Uncle’s answer had surprised him completely.

’Maybe it’s because I am lost that I can advise you on how not to be,’ he had said with a free laugh. ’Take me as an example. Be anything but me.’

But what he hadn’t known...

’If we were even a sliver of who you were, all of this would have been avoided. And I... I would not be about to do what I am about to do.’

So forgive me, Uncle Azad. Forgive me for not being like you. Forgive me for not being as honourable.

’But don’t forsake me, Uncle. Wherever you are, look at me. Witness me. And guide me, even though my soul is already lost.’

Tristan clenched his fists tight, swallowing back the tears threatening his face, exhaling slowly and repeatedly to steady himself.

"Tristan?" A sweet, drowsy voice whispered beside him, making him snap back to the present.

He looked down. Laly lay beside him, her face soft with sleep and a faint smile.

"You’re already up? Why? We have nothing today. Come sleep more." She tugged gently at his arm, pulling it toward her chest.

Tristan mirrored her smile, his heart weeping quietly inside, and opened his mouth. His voice came out rough.

"I have something to tell you, Laly."

’Uncle Azad, please don’t forsake me.’

—End of Chapter 472—