SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!

Chapter 508 508: Brutality And Compassion

Nadia was ready to argue with Mika, protest and even use herself as a shield if Mika were to try something right now.

But to her surprise...that didn't happen at all.

Instead, Mika lowered his hand. His face was genuinely confused.

"What are you talking about, Nadia? What did you think I was going to do?"

She blinked, thinking that something was wrong before hesitantly saying,

"I...I thought you were going to...finish them off. Like the others."

It sounded terrible coming out of her mouth. She glanced at the children, who were looking up at her with terrified, tear-filled eyes, then back at Mika.

But hearing this, Mika had a look of betrayal on his face before he placed a hand on his chest and said with a voice that swelled with self pity,

"Do you really think I would do something like that, Nadia?"

"Do you really think I'm some kind of mass child murderer or something?"

"Umm...I...It's not that...It's just—"

She stumbled over her words, unable to find an explanation that didn't sound terrible.

Because yes, after everything she had just witnessed, a small part of her had feared the worst.

Seeing her hesitate to answer, Mika shook his head, rubbing his temples in exaggerated disappointment.

"I see. So you really do look at me that way."

He sighed dramatically.

"I suppose it makes sense. After killing so many people, you'd naturally assume I'd have no problem killing children too. I should only blame myself for being so...protective of my family."

Nadia's guilt multiplied. "Mika, that's not—I didn't mean—"

He held up a hand, cutting her off. His expression softened into something almost saintly—the look of a man who had been wronged but had chosen to forgive.

"But it's alright, Nadia. It's alright." He patted her shoulder gently. "You don't have to explain yourself. I understand."

He gazed down at the small, tear-stained faces looking up at him with terror, and his expression transformed into something unexpectedly tender.

"After all, they're just children." He said softly. "They've been shaped by their parents, by the environment they were born into."

"If these same children had been placed in a normal family from the beginning, had been raised with love instead of fanaticism—they would have become normal, happy people."

"They wouldn't have any connection to this cult. They wouldn't have spent their childhood being indoctrinated into worshipping a dead queen."

He turned back to look at Nadia, and there was genuine compassion in his eyes.

"At the end of the day, they're still innocent. They can't be punished for the sins of their parents."

"That's something I would never do."

Nadia stared at him, her heart swelling with something she couldn't name.

She had expected cruelty, vengeance, blood. Instead, she was witnessing mercy.

Then she frowned.

"But Mika." She said, stepping closer. "What are we going to do with them? We can't just let them go."

"They've been raised in the cult. They've been indoctrinated. Even if they're children, those beliefs are already inside them. And after watching their parents be slaughtered..."

She trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.

Mika looked at her. "Don't worry. Let me handle it."

He turned back to the children and whispered something under his breath.

[Death Of One Life And The Birth Of Another]

Immediately, blue lights began to emerge from the air around them—tiny, glowing wisps, like fireflies born from moonlight.

They floated gently, dancing in the crimson glow of the sky, and for a moment, the children's tear-stained faces lit up with wonder.

They were beautiful. Ethereal. Almost peaceful.

Then the wisps drifted toward them. Toward their foreheads.

The children panicked. They tried to run, to crawl away, to shield their heads—but they couldn't move.

They were frozen in place, trapped by an invisible force. They watched in horror as the blue lights sank into their skin.

Some of them screamed, thinking they would explode like their parents.

Others just closed their eyes, waiting for death.

But death did not come.

Instead, their eyes glowed, a soft, warm blue and their pupils dilated. Information flooded into their minds, overwhelming their senses. Then, one by one, they slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Not dead. Sleeping.

Nadia rushed to the nearest child, a small girl with pigtails and checked her pulse. Strong. Steady.

She was breathing normally, her face relaxed, her lips slightly parted.

She looked up at Mika. "What did you do to them?"

He crouched down beside her.

"I erased their memories. Completely. Every trace of their past lives—their parents, the cult, everything they saw today—it's all gone."

Nadia's eyes widened.

"Then I replaced those memories with new ones. New lives. New identities. They'll wake up believing they're orphans from different places, with no connection to each other or to any of this."

"They'll have no reason to seek revenge, no reason to rebuild the cult, no reason to hate."

He looked at the sleeping children with something like satisfaction.

"A fresh start basically. A clean slate."

Nadia was speechless.

This was...this was perfect.

It was the ideal solution. The children wouldn't suffer. They wouldn't become future terrorists.

They would simply...live.

She looked at Mika, her heart swelling with a complex mixture of emotions.

"Are you going to tell me that this is also cruel, Nadia?"

He asked, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice.

"That I shouldn't have erased their memories? That I took away their pasts?"

"N-No!" She said immediately. "No, Mika. I would never think that!"

She let out a breath and spoke in a low voice.

"Even though erasing someone's memories is a form of violation, it's the most optimal solution for all of them."

She looked at the children with a tender gaze.

"After this, they'll be able to live normal, peaceful lives. Even without parents. Even without families. They'll have a chance."

She paused, then looked at him with concern.

"But I'm worried about you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Charlotte has a mind-control blessing." Nadia continued.

"So, I know how difficult it is to manipulate even a single person's thoughts. Controlling a hundred people is possible with how powerful she already is.."

"But completely erasing their memories, sealing them, and implanting entirely new ones?"

She shook her head. "That's on a completely different level. Charlotte couldn't do that with ten people, let alone a hundred. And you just did it with hundreds of children."

She grabbed his arm.

"I know there's a reason you don't use your powers often. I know there are...repercussions. Consequences."

"I don't know exactly what they are—no one does, except maybe Big Sis—but I know they exist. That's why you always try to handle things without using your abilities. That's why I never push you."

Her voice dropped.

"So tell me. What did it cost you?"

Mika looked at the sleeping children, his expression tender.

"It's alright, Nadia."

He turned to her.

"If hundreds of children can spend the rest of their lives without without causing more bloodshed, more suffering, all for the sake of some dead queen, then a little sacrifice on my part is worth it."

A little sacrifice.

In his mind, that 'little sacrifice' was three hundred and fifty-eight years.

This substantial number wasn't because erasing memories was difficult. That was the easy part.

The hard part was rebuilding.

After all, hadn't just given them amnesia—he had created entire new lives for each child.

New memories, new personalities, new histories.

He had woven intricate tapestries of false experience so detailed, so seamless, that no one would ever be able to find the seams.

The children wouldn't question their pasts because their pasts would feel real.

They would remember loving families that never existed, childhood friends they had never met, birthdays they had never celebrated.

He had done this for over a hundred children.

And now, he felt the strain.

A dull ache behind his eyes. A lingering exhaustion that would take time to fade.

But when he looked at the sleeping children—peaceful, safe, free—he felt no regret.

Nadia watched him. Her heart was so full it ached.

She was proud of him. She was always proud of him.

But this was different.

This wasn't about his intelligence or his power or his ability to solve impossible problems.

This was about his heart. His willingness to sacrifice for others. His refusal to let innocent children pay for the crimes of their parents.

It reminded her of someone. Someone she had loved deeply. Someone she had lost.

Mika's true mother.

The woman who had given birth to him, who had poured everything she had into protecting him, even at the cost of her own life.

She had been like this. Kind. Selfless. Willing to bear any burden for the sake of others.

Nadia felt tears prick at her eyes.

She had looked up to that woman. Had admired her. Had tried to be like her.

And now, seeing those same qualities in Mika, she felt a strange, bittersweet nostalgia. As if she was seeing the woman she had lost, reflected in the son she had gained.

Mika noticed the tears.

"What's wrong?" He looked genuinely alarmed. "The backlash isn't that bad, I promise. Look—" He held up his arms, flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders. "—perfectly fine. Nothing broken. See?"

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. A small smile crossed her lips.

"It's not that, Mika.

"It's just..." She hesitated, then laughed softly. "It's nothing. I just got a little nostalgic, that's all."

He studied her for a moment, clearly not believing her, but he didn't push. Instead, he nodded and looked back at the children.

"Anyway. I want you to take them to the Sanctuary." His voice grew warmer. "I'm sure the one who resides over there will be very happy to have a whole batch of new children to spoil."

A fond smile crossed his face. He was thinking of a certain cheerful, wheelchair-bound girl who would definitely spoil all of these kids rotten.

"Just tell her what happened." He said. "She'll know what to do."

Nadia nodded. She began gathering the children, levitating them gently into the air.

They floated around her like a constellation of sleeping stars, their faces peaceful, their breathing steady.

When she looked back, Mika was already walking through the portal.

Something in his stride was different. Eager. Purposeful.

He was thinking about something else now, something that had nothing to do with children or cults or bombs and instead there was a look of lust in his eyes.

But Nadia didn't notice. She was too focused on the children, counting them, making sure she had everyone.

But her mind kept wandering.

Back to Mika.

The way he had slaughtered thousands without hesitation. Cold. Efficient. Merciless.

And then the way he had saved these children, had sacrificed a part of himself for them with such gentleness. Such kindness.

He was brutal and compassionate.

Ruthless and loving.

Willing to destroy anyone who threatened his family, yet willing to suffer for the sake of innocent strangers.

It was a contradiction that shouldn't work. A man capable of such brutality shouldn't also be capable of such tenderness.

Yet in Mika, they coexisted in a way that was almost seductive.

There was a loneliness to his burden, she realized.

A willingness to carry the weight of the world, to make the difficult decisions, to bear the consequences—all while everyone else remained protected behind the shield of his actions.

That kind of isolation, that kind of absolute determination to protect others even at a cost to himself, it was...

Any woman would find that irresistible.

The strength. The protectiveness. The hidden softness beneath the hard exterior.

And Nadia herself felt her cheeks warm.

She tried to push the thought away.

He was her son, even if not by blood. He had been raised by her, had called her mother. This kind of feeling was inappropriate, forbidden, absolutely beyond the bounds of acceptable emotion.

But the more she thought about his smile—the genuine, gentle smile he had given the children—the faster her heart raced.

She shook her head violently and focused on the children.

'Stop it, Nadia. Focus. Counting. One, two, three, four—'

Her mind drifted back to him.

'Damn it.'

She gave up on the headcount and just floated the children toward the portal, her face flushed, her heart pounding, her thoughts a tangled mess of pride, guilt, and something else, something dangerous that she refused to name.