Free Web NovelThe wind blew through the alleyway.
It kicked up dust and scraps of paper from the ground.
The distant glow of fire reflected off it all.
It made the alley look like some forgotten corner.
Forgotten by time.
Forgotten by the world.
Forgotten by fate.
"Bringing me... here... is enough..."
Igor began trying to prop up his body.
His arms were shaking.
Like a newborn fawn.
But he gritted his teeth and slowly, bit by bit, pushed himself up.
His hands pressed against the ground.
His fingertips touched the cold stone slabs.
And something wet.
He didn't look down.
He knew what it was.
But he didn't have the strength to care.
"From here... I can... on my own..."
He leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.
Every breath felt like fire being poured into his lungs.
"You should... leave quickly too..."
"People will... be here soon..."
Sophie still didn't respond.
She just sat leaning against the opposite wall.
She closed her eyes.
Her breathing gradually steadied.
But her hand remained at her side.
Very close.
Close enough to reach something at any moment.
Igor glanced at her.
He said nothing more.
He began to move deeper into the alley, leaning against the wall step by step.
Every step felt like treading on knife edges.
Pain spread from the soles of his feet to his entire body.
But he had to walk.
He had to leave.
He had to—
His mind had already begun calculating the next steps.
This operation had completely exposed his identity.
Eleanor von Schwartz certainly knew he was with the Fire of Freedom now.
He couldn't stay at the Academy anymore.
He couldn't stay in Eisenburg either.
He had to relocate with Natasha immediately.
Find a safe place to hide.
Then re-establish contact with the organization and request support.
How exactly would he execute this?
He already had a plan in mind.
First, go to the safe house to get backup identification documents.
Then take the secret passage to the west, a route known only to him and a few others.
After leaving the city, head north to an abandoned farmhouse—one of the organization's secret strongholds.
Wait there for a few days until the heat died down, then—
Right.
There was still that file.
The file on the ghost of caldberg.
After Natasha wavered, he had reclaimed that file and given it to another member for safekeeping.
That person hadn't participated in tonight's operation.
The file should still be safe.
He now seriously suspected...
That Pavela.
That Sequence V of the Path of the Tower who had appeared out of nowhere.
She might be the ghost of caldberg that Eleanor brought back from the battlefield—
A gust of wind came from behind.
Igor's body reacted faster than his consciousness.
Instinct.
Instinct honed on the battlefield.
Over a decade of slaughter had etched certain reactions into his very marrow.
No need for thought.
No need for judgment.
The body would move on its own.
He wanted to turn.
He wanted to dodge.
Muscles contracted.
Nerves transmitted signals.
But his body wouldn't obey.
His strength hadn't recovered.
His muscles were as stiff as stone.
The signal arrived, but the movement was half a beat slow.
The dodge failed.
Warmth.
A wave of warmth spread from his neck. freēwēbnovel.com
As if something had sliced through it.
Sharp.
Cold.
Then warm.
The temperature of blood.
His legs went weak.
With a thud, his knees hit the ground.
Dust rose from the stone slabs.
Then his entire body collapsed powerlessly.
His cheek pressed against the cold stone.
Blood began to spread across the ground.
Like a red snake.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Crawling toward an unknown distance.
He looked at the person who had attacked him.
Sophie stood there.
He didn't know when she had stood up.
He didn't know when she had walked over.
Like a ghost.
Silent and invisible.
She held a dagger in her hand.
Blood was still dripping from the blade.
His blood.
One drop.
Two drops.
Falling onto the stone slabs with a faint sound.
Drip.
Drip.
Like some kind of countdown.
Her expression was calm.
No anger, no hatred.
Just... calm.
As if completing a long-planned task.
As if executing a long-awaited mission.
"Wh... y..."
Igor squeezed the last of his strength from his mouth.
His voice sounded like a broken bellows.
Bubbles surged from the wound in his throat, carrying bloody froth.
"Why... if you wanted to kill me... in the underground... you could have..."
He didn't understand.
He really didn't understand.
If Sophie had wanted to kill him from the start, she could have done it in the Underground Storage Area.
There was no need to go through such effort to drag him here.
No need to walk several kilometers.
No need to—
Unless.
Unless she had some kind of obsession.
An obsession that had to be fulfilled right here.
Sophie crouched down.
Her face appeared in his field of vision.
Very close.
Close enough that he could see the fine lines at the corners of her eyes.
Close enough that he could see the exhaustion deep in her gaze.
Close enough that he could see—
In those eyes, a flame that had burned for a long time was finally about to go out.
"Mr. Igor."
"To pay a debt of blood with blood."
Her voice was very soft.
Very calm.
As if stating a fact.
As if reciting a scripture.
"The way you killed Karl back then—"
"Is the way I will kill you."
Karl.
The name spun through Igor's mind a few times.
Karl.
Karl.
Who was Karl?
He had killed many people.
He couldn't remember the names.
He couldn't remember the faces.
It was all for the mission.
It was all for the Fire of Freedom.
It was all for—
Then, he remembered.
The intelligence informant he had killed in an alley in the Old City.
That young man with sandy short hair and round-rimmed glasses.
He had approached the man from behind.
The man had been walking with his head down, unaware of the danger behind him.
He had drawn his dagger.
One strike.
Clean and efficient.
Slicing the throat.
Blood had sprayed out, splashing against the wall.
The man hadn't even had time to make a sound.
He just fell.
Like a chicken with its neck wrung.
Then he had his subordinates set up the scene to make it look like the Army General Staff's doing.
Military boot prints.
A specific type of dagger.
Everything had been arranged perfectly.
Right in—
Right in an alley in the Old City.
An alley very similar to this one.
Or...
Was it this very place?
Suddenly, he understood.
Why Sophie had dragged him here.
Why she hadn't acted in the underground.
Why she had gone to such great lengths.
It wasn't just to kill him.
It was to make him die in the same place. freeωebnovēl.c૦m
In the same way.
In the same alley.
Falling on the same stone slab.
This was revenge.
Not simple killing.
It was a ritual.
And a memorial.
Igor's lips moved.
He wanted to say something.
But only blood bubbles overflowed from the corner of his mouth.
They popped.
More blood surged out.
His vision began to blur.
The edges began to turn black.
Sophie stood up.
She threw the coin purse onto Igor's chest.
It was heavy.
Pressing down on his heart that was about to stop beating.
"Don't worry."
Her voice was still calm.
But beneath the calm, something was surging.
"Your other teammates, your sister—"
She paused for a moment.
"They will join you soon."
She began to walk toward the alley entrance.
Her footsteps echoed in the silent alley.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
Gradually fading away.
Igor lay in a pool of blood.
He could feel it.
Life was draining away.
Disappearing bit by bit with every drop of blood.
Like sand in an hourglass.
Like the flame on a candle.
Like the last ray of sunlight at dusk.
The cut was very precise.
It hit a vital spot.
He wouldn't survive.
He knew it.
At death's door.
What should he be thinking about?
Should he feel regret?
Should he feel remorse?
Igor closed his eyes.
Many images flashed before him.
Lyubertsy Town.
Fire.
Screams.
Neighbors burned to cinders in their own homes.
Friends pinned under beams, reaching out and calling his name.
He could do nothing.
He could only run, holding his sister.
Run and run.
Running until his legs went weak.
Running until his lungs felt like they were on fire.
Running until the whole world was burning.
Then, he joined the Fire of Freedom.
To stop the war.
To ensure more people wouldn't have to experience what they had.
For a better future.
But along the way, how many people had he killed?
How much blood had he stained himself with?
How many lies had he told?
How many things had he done that he didn't even want to remember?
He had self-indulgently believed he was fighting for his and his sister's future.
He thought if he just held on a little longer, worked a little harder, everything would get better.
But the result?
How long had it been since he had a proper conversation with Natasha?
How long since they had shared a meal?
How long since they had sat together like when they were children, looking at the stars and talking about the future?
Now.
At this moment when he was dying.
There was still a rift between him and his sister.
She was questioning him.
Questioning everything he had done.
Questioning the path he had chosen.
And he—
He hadn't even properly answered her questions.
He just said "You're still too young, you'll understand when you grow up."
What a hypocritical excuse.
What a cowardly evasion.
Regret.
He did have regrets.
Remorse.
He had remorse too.
If only—
No.
There were no "if onlys."
There was no "back then."
It was all too late.
But even so.
Even though he was dying.
He still had one last thing to do.
He had a vow to keep.
Five years ago.
In the ruins scorched by the flames of war.
He had held his shivering sister.
Her face was covered in dust and tears.
Her body was shaking.
She was crying.
He held her tight.
And vowed in his heart.
He would not let anyone hurt her.
Anyone.
Even if it meant death.
Igor's hand began to move.
Slowly.
Bit by bit.
As if wading through thick mud.
As if pushing a mountain.
He reached into his coat.
There was a handgun there.
A backup handgun.
Always hidden in the most accessible spot.
Just in case.
Now, the "just in case" had arrived.
His fingers touched the cold metal.
He gripped it.
That familiar feel.
He had held a gun countless times.
He had killed countless people.
But never had it been as important as right now.
He pulled it out.
His hand was shaking.
Blood was flowing.
His vision was blurring.
But he could still see.
He could still see Sophie's back.
Still in the alley.
Almost at the exit.
Just a few steps away.
If she walked out.
If she disappeared into that orange-red firelight.
His sister would be in danger.
He raised it.
The muzzle pointed at that back.
His hand was shaking.
The muzzle was wavering.
But he had no other choice.
He only had one chance.
Only one bullet.
If he missed, it was over.
Igor pulled the trigger.
Bang—!
The gunshot echoed through the alley.
Sharp.
Piercing.
As if tearing something apart.
Tearing the silence.
Tearing the night sky.
Tearing all the secrets in this alley.
Sophie's body stiffened.
Her footsteps stopped.
Her figure froze there.
Like a statue.
She looked down.
Looking at her chest.
There was a new hole there.
Not large.
But right over her heart.
Blood began to gush out.
Staining her clothes red.
Flowing down the fabric.
Dripping onto the ground.
She turned around in disbelief.
Looking at the man who should have already been dead.
Igor lay in a pool of blood.
The handgun was still in his hand.
Smoke was still rising from the muzzle.
White smoke rose slowly in the dim firelight.
The corner of his mouth curled into a faint arc.
Like a smile.
Or something else.
Bitterness.
Relief.
And a little bit—
A little bit of pride.
"Sorry."
"But I made a vow too..."
His voice was almost inaudible.
Only his lips were moving.
"Can't let anyone... hurt her..."
Then.
His hand fell.
The gun slid from his fingers.
Clang, it hit the ground.
The sound of metal striking stone.
Crisp.
Cold.
It was the final sound in this alley.
His eyes closed.
This time.
They were closed for good.
Sophie stood where she was.
She wanted to say something.
Her lips moved.
But only blood surged from her mouth.
Her legs went weak.
Her knees hit the ground.
Making a dull thud.
Then her whole body fell forward.
Crashing onto the cold stone slabs.
Her hand still gripped that dagger.
Igor's blood was still on the blade.
Now, it mixed with her own.
Indistinguishable.
Everything was indistinguishable now.
The alley fell silent.
Total silence.
No footsteps.
No breathing.
Nothing was left.
Only blood slowly flowing.
Gathering.
Spreading.
Two people lying in the same alley.
Like two intersecting lines.
Here.
It ended.
A drop of water fell on Igor's face.
Cold.
Falling from the sky.
Then a second drop.
A third.
More.
Rain.
It began to rain.
A torrential downpour.
As if the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» sky could finally hold it in no longer.
The rain washed away the bloodstains.
Washed away the dust.
Washed over this city that had burned all night.
In the distance.
The sounds of people cheering drifted over.
The fire was out.
The great fire was finally extinguished.
The civilians' cheers pierced through the curtain of rain.
Pierced through the night sky.
Like a celebration.
Like a release.
But in this alley.
No one was cheering.
Only rain.
Only blood.
Only two bodies gradually turning cold.
The rain fell harder and harder.
Blurring everything.
Blurring faces.
Blurring wounds.
Blurring that heart pressed down by a coin purse, which had already stopped beating.
...
This night.
Was finally coming to an end.
