NOVEL WEB Chapter 9: Chapter: 9 Who was that man??
Elarion stirred, his lashes fluttering as his eyes opened slightly and slowly he blinked.
His blurred vision met a pair of crimson eyes—sharp, deep, and strange. Those eyes were looking at his, with concern. Wait..... Concern??
Elarion opened his eyes wide to get a clear view.
Those eyes as he suspected, belonged to a man with obsidian hair streaked with grey.
A man whose face, of all things, was painted with... concern?
'No. That can't be right.' Elarion thought.
Elarion blinked harder. The fog in his mind began to clear—and recognition slammed into him like a blade.
> Him.
The man holding him—the one whose arms now trembled with tension—was Herus Von Crimsonveil. His father. A man who had wealth, power, status—everything, except feelings. Calling him a devil would've been too kind.
And yet...
> Was he… worried? For.... him??
What irony. What a joke. Elarion scoffed in his mind.
Surely, this was a dream. A cruel hallucination. He thought,,not wanting to believe it.
But the pressure of the hand on his back, the faint warmth of his embrace—it was all real.
Elarion tried to speak, but his throat burned, unmoving.
He was just a child.
All he could do was stare—disbelief and exhaustion battling behind his eyes.
> Why now?
Why like this?
Why look at me like this?? You never looked when I wanted to, so why now??
Should I rip those eyes out??
His mind was in havoc.
His lids were heavy, and though he fought it, the darkness pulled him down again. But just before sleep took him, he heard something that twisted his chest:
"Hold on. You can do it,"
said the man—the reason for his suffering—in a voice firm yet gentle, not much but too much for a monster like him.
----
*Hours Later
Elarion woke up again, eyes blinking against the light-drenched ceiling.
His body still ached—deep, dull pain wrapped around his bones—but he could feel something new.
Mana.
Liquid and free-flowing, humming beneath his skin.
It wasn't stable yet—he hadn't learned to store it—but it circulated naturally. Healing him. Feeding him.
> My recovery rate… it's accelerating.
It was inhumane. He wasn't recovering but his body was regenerating.
The power blessing of God, flowing in his blood. He could feel it, he wanted to cut his arm. With his own eyes he wanted to make sure if, he was dreaming or not.
Can his body now regenerate on his own??.....But there was no blade there, unfortunately.
He could feel the shift, the way his body adapted to pain now. Faster. Stronger. He was no longer normal. But this was only the first step on a long road.
Still… he could not forget the moment before he passed out.
> Why… was it him?
Why was it Father?
That man who never spared a second glance at my corpse… now looking at me like I mattered?
Am I supposed to be moved by this hypocrisy? He questioned himself.
The voice of birds echoed faintly from beyond the window—a melody too gentle for a house that once crushed his spirit. And in that moment, Elarion knew:
Even the prettiest lullaby can't silence hate.
Even the kindest hand can't undo what it once broke.
The Elarion came to a conclusion:-
Herus was just worried about losing a valuable pawn again.
"Hmph," he thought bitterly.
Only one word came to mind: "Hypocrite."
---
Tap...tap....
The footsteps of a man grew louder.
A few minutes later, the sound of measured footsteps echoed outside his door. The floor didn't creak—it submitted.
Herus Vin Crimsonveil entered the room with a presence that made shadows straighten. His black cloak whispered across the stone like silk soaked in blood. His eyes—deep crimson, like wine left to rot—surveyed the room coldly.
Yet in that glimmer of red… there was something else. Something warm. Almost too faint to believe.
Elarion instinctively shut his eyes, feigning sleep.
He felt it—a hand brushing his cheek, feather-light, as if afraid he would shatter. The gesture was too tender. Too human.
> Who are you?
What are you pretending to be now?
---
Herus lingered only a moment before turning to the doctor nearby.
The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by the suffocating cold of authority. The room seemed to shrink.
"Report," he said.
The word alone held more pressure than a sword at the throat.
The doctor straightened, struggling to keep his hands steady.
"Y-Yes, Your Grace. He's exhausted, physically strained—but stable. No internal damage, no deterioration. The pain tolerance potion was administered. He'll recover fully after rest."
Herus did not blink.
"Though… if I may," the doctor hesitated, "Holy magic could reduce residual aching—"
"Enough," Herus cut in, his tone lethal. "A child with my blood doesn't need holy mercy for scratches, not from those geezers."
The doctor bowed low, sweat clinging to his brow.
"I—I understand. Forgive my presumption. I'll take my leave."
Permission granted, he escaped the room like a man fleeing a beast.
---
Herus remained still for a moment, eyes lingering on the sleeping boy one last time.
He knew Elarion, he could feel the power in his body but neither did he questioned nor interrupted, not know neither in future.
He said nothing.
But before leaving, he gave one order to the guards:
> "No noise. No interruptions. Protect him."
Then he vanished into the corridor, the door shutting behind him like a vault sealing shut.
---
*Alone Again
Elarion slowly opened his eyes. The silence returned.
> Who… was that?
Was that really Herus Von Crimsonveil?
Or just another illusion made to torment me?
He lay in silence, eyes tracing the ceiling, heart unreadable.
> Whatever kindness you show me now... won't change what you let happen to me then.
> I haven't forgotten.
And I never will.
Elarion though, and drifted to sleep feeling ease in his body.
The potion kicked in and the holy power in his body completely eased it, though he got tired once again.