thief of fate-Chapter 100: End of the fighting

Valerian looked at Evelyn, his eyes filled with shock, his heart on the verge of collapse. She was sitting on the ground, her eyes closed, tears streaming like rivers, but she showed no expression other than pain. She was gently touching the place where her eyes used to be with a trembling hand, as if trying to stop the bleeding that had begun to cover her face.

A moment of silence swept across the arena. The ground was chaotic, flames blazing in every corner, and the battle still at its peak, but everything disappeared for Valerian. He could see only Evelyn, and he could hear only his heartbeat, heavy and fast.

"Evelyn..." he whispered, kneeling beside her, placing his hand on her forehead, but she did not respond.

Suddenly, his fingers felt something strange... his hand was glowing rapidly, and a voice was whispering in his ear. It sounded like the system... the voice he had always heard, but now it was screaming deep within his mind.

["Yes, Valerian... do you feel anger? Sadness? What if there was a way to strengthen yourself? To change your fate?"]

A screen appeared before his eyes, floating in the air, covered with words that mocked him.

["You are weak, Valerian. Always falling behind."] ["But now you have a chance."]

Then another text appeared, tempting:

["Use the Fate Theft skill. Steal an opportunity or ability from someone else, and prepare to impose your own power."] 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Valerian felt as if his heart flipped in his chest, rage storming through him. The tempting offer tasted like bait on his tongue, overpowering reason, and he found himself breathing faster.

"I need power... I need victory," he whispered to himself, looking at the screen. This was the chance. The only way to change everything.

He felt something moving within his body. A new force surged through him, and the sword in his hand glowed with the same light that began to fade gradually, as if the gleam reflected his inner transformation. He had truly made his decision now.

He raised his hand and pointed it toward a nearby Arkanis—one of the higher kinds—who stood alone, immersed in a battle with others. Valerian looked at him, focusing again on the target.

"Fate Theft..." he whispered.

A new skill launched from his hand, a golden beam of light shooting toward the Arkanis.

The Arkanis took the hit, and the result was a weak strike at first, but he felt something strange. A chance had been stolen... something in his future had changed—not a decisive fate, but useful enough.

Valerian felt something odd after that. His body was trembling with newly added power. He had stolen a type of ability, perhaps not the strongest, but good enough. However, it came with a feeling of pressure, as if something in his body had begun to ignite incorrectly, and soon his system started sending alerts.

["Penalty: Unbalanced Theft."] ["Penalty: Decrease in Mental Strength."]

Pain struck him suddenly, his mind overwhelmed with new aches, making him collapse briefly to his knees. "I can’t take this anymore," he whispered, struggling to breathe, but he quickly pulled himself together and stood back up.

But now, his gaze was decisively locked onto Axel.

"Axel," he said, his voice nearly shattering the last shred of hope from his heart. He knew that salvation lay with Axel. He was the one behind all of this. The one who took everything from Evelyn, from him, and from the battle itself.

So, what if he had greater power? What if he could take the future from Axel?

He began to focus. He tried using the Fate Theft skill again, but this time the aura around Axel was different. That person was surrounded by a layer of protection, as if his fate was shielded from such skills. He tried again, but it felt like striking a wall of stone.

"Impossible!" he screamed inside.

Axel looked at him, that mocking smile dancing on his lips as he watched Valerian fail, as if his failure was amusement to him.

"I told you. You knew you wouldn’t succeed in this," Axel said coldly, gazing at both Raine and Valerian.

As the Arkanis battle began to subside, the situation was leaning toward a dark ending.

But there was no place to hide.

Valerian, despite all his skills, now knew one thing. He had to kill Axel.

But how?

While rage coursed through Valerian’s veins, he stared at Axel with eyes ignited like embers. The air around him felt heavy, as if time hesitated between each heartbeat. He raised his dagger—the one he had always trusted—and positioned himself like a professional assassin, then charged forward.

Phantom Stab... the move that had always deceived the enemy’s eyes, blending speed with optical illusion, Valerian used it again, delving into the shattered shadows cast by the blazing fires around the arena. He moved like a flash, shifting between reflections, each step ahead of its sound, each stab carrying the intent to kill.

But Axel... didn’t move.

A tilted smile appeared on his face, as if everything he saw before him was a stage filled with repeated expectations.

"You’ll choose the rear-right angle behind my back... now," Axel murmured.

And Valerian did.

He stabbed.

But when the dagger reached where it should’ve pierced flesh, he found himself stabbing empty space. No blood, no resistance, not even a trace. Only a mirage.

Then Axel appeared behind him, his voice slicing through the stillness of the moment:

"Speed without perception... is just an illusion."

Valerian turned quickly, sweat drenching his face, his breath ragged. He tried again. Another stab. Then another. Each faster than the last, closer to the heart, more desperate.

But Axel remained still.

As if his body didn’t belong to this world.

Then... Time stopped.

Or at least, that’s how it felt to everyone.

A shiver ran through Valerian’s body suddenly. Something—something greater than death itself—began to drift in the air.

The soldiers on the ground, the elite, the hiding commanders... all felt that hidden weight. Even the monsters stopped roaring. Even the flames died for a moment.

"...What is that?" someone whispered from the back.

And the darkness split open.

Irkalos appeared.

He didn’t scream, didn’t threaten, didn’t wave his hands. He just... was there.

His eyes were like abyssal cracks, staring directly at Axel.

"That’s enough," Irkalos said in a calm voice, yet stronger than any storm.

Axel nodded slowly, as if this was always part of the plan. He looked at Valerian and tilted his head slightly:

"We’ll be back. Very soon."

Then he vanished... As if he had never existed.

At that very moment, a sudden scream erupted from the other side of the arena.

"Hungry... hungry!"

Kyle was lying on the ground, his body pierced, his blood pouring heavily. And above him... Dirus.

One body, but two faces.

One wept like a lost child, the other laughed like a wolf over the corpse of its prey.

Their voices overlapped, tearing through the ears.

"We still want food!"

"Don’t go... I’m hungry... I’m hungry!!"

Every scream shook the stones. Every shiver of his body brought the weak to their knees.

Valerian stared at the scene, his breath still ragged, his hand trembling on the hilt of his dagger.

This wasn’t the time to rest.

The war wasn’t over.

The Arkanis vanished...

Not like those who flee.

But like something folding its existence inward, leaving behind air heavier than lead. One moment, and their presence collapsed... evaporated from the arena, from sight, from reality itself.

Silence fell.

Not silence like any other.

It was the sound of loss, the vacuum after a scream... the heartbeat that stopped believing.

The arena... had become a graveyard.

Bodies stacked, some torn apart, some unrecognizable, some not even identifiable as human. Blood stained the ground, ran along the stones, pooled in the channels of battle. Banners had fallen, weapons shattered, and hearts were broken.

Those who remained alive... were silent.

Each of them looked around like someone who had just emerged from a nightmare that hadn’t yet ended.

Sigard knelt, clutching his pierced shoulder, yet his other hand still gripped his bow—as if the fight still burned within him.

Valerian stood in silence, staring at the bloodstained spot where Evelyn had been, before the soldiers carried her away.

Kyle lay among the debris, unmoving, eyes half-open.

Selena was trying to stop a knight’s bleeding, her lips trembling as if she were battling tears with silent strength.

In the midst of this hell...

Alistair ran.

The sound of his hurried steps, his heavy breaths, was the only thing that shattered the silence after the massacre.

"Leonard! Where are you? Leonard!" he shouted.

He searched frantically, flipping over bodies, pushing past the wounded, ignoring anyone in his way... until he found him.

There... near one of the shattered walls.

Lying still... but... his chest moved.

Slowly.

Weakly.

But still alive.

"Leonard!!" Alistair dropped to his knees, his voice cracking as he said his name.

He reached out with a trembling hand, placed it on his friend’s dirt- and blood-covered cheek, and whispered:

"Hold on... you idiot... don’t you dare die..."

Leonard opened his eyes slightly, his gaze dazed, barely recognizing who was in front of him.

He whispered in a barely audible voice:

"Alistair... the battle... is it... over?"

"It’s over. We’re alive. But you need me now, more than ever..." Alistair said as he pressed on the wound in his chest to stop the bleeding, pulling off his scarf and wrapping it tightly around the trembling wound.

His eyes filled with tears. He wasn’t crying...

He was bleeding from the inside.

"Don’t leave me, brother... don’t leave us in this hell..."

And as he tried to stop the bleeding, Leonard’s trembling hand rested gently on Alistair’s chest and pressed lightly...

As if to say: "I’m still here."

And around them...

Silence turned into sobbing.

The sobbing of those who survived.

And who knew they had lost a part of themselves... forever.