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Chapter 90.1: Shatter, Scatter, Hate (6) Part 1

“Young Master Lishite!! Open this door right now!!!”

A fist pounded on the door violently.

The golden-haired boy was screaming for Raiden, his voice thick with fury.

The last shred of his rationality seemed ready to snap at any moment.

Allen, his face contorted in rage, radiated a fierce aura—an aura of pure hostility.

“Wait, what are you trying to do…!! Get ahold of yourself, Allen!”

“Please try to compose yourself. While I understand your anger, he is the eldest son of the Lishite Dukedom…”

Voices rose from behind, attempting to dissuade him.

But Allen ignored his friends who were desperately clutching at his sleeves.

Instead, he unleashed a burst of mana, his eyes fixed solely on the tightly shut metal door.

-Fwoosh…!

A small flame erupted from his tightly clenched fist, quickly transforming into a writhing crimson inferno.

It morphed into the shape of a gauntlet that encased his arm—Allen’s unique magic, ‘Flame Gauntlet.’

“...If you don’t open this door, I will break it down.”

Amidst the flickering remnants of mana, Allen delivered his final warning.

But as expected, the door remained stubbornly shut. Instead, a flurry of noise came from behind it.

-...!

-Wait, Master Raiden…!

It was but a fleeting sound, a whisper carried on the air.

However, Allen’s heightened senses did not miss it. Mixed within those faint fragments of sound was undoubtedly…

“S-Saintess…?”

It was Lorraine’s voice—the voice of the girl, desperately calling out Raiden’s name with a shaky breath.

-Snap…

The fragile thread of Allen’s rationality finally snapped.

There was no time for anyone to stop him.

In the next instant, Allen had already thrown a punch at the door.

-KABOOM!!!

Fueled by rage, the violent force brutally ripped through the obstacle before him.

The flaming gauntlet tore through the door as if it were made of paper.

“Saintess…!!”

Stepping over the fragments of metal scattered at his feet, Allen stormed into the room.

His companions, taken aback by his sudden action, followed behind him in shock.

“H-Hold on…! Allen!!”

“Allen! Wait!”

Their footsteps echoed as they rushed through the entrance hall.

The living room, devoid of even a sliver of light, was cloaked in a thick, oppressive darkness.

The group strained their eyes, trying to make sense of the room.

“...”

The living room was in complete disarray.

The floor was drenched in something sticky, clothes were strewn about, and furniture was overturned and broken.

The chaotic scene looked as if someone had put up a fierce struggle.

‘What in the world… what happened to the Saintess here…?’

-Grit…

Allen, taking in the scene, ground his teeth.

Unable to contain his boiling rage, he uttered the incantation with a growl.

“Ignite.”

-Fwoosh!!

With the sound of a roaring flame, a small light flickered from his fingertips.

The bright afterimage of the light pierced through the darkness, illuminating the living room.

Blinded by the sudden light, the group briefly winced.

As their vision slowly adjusted, their eyes fell upon…

…a sea of blood that painted the entire floor crimson.

“...Huh?”

Allen froze in his tracks, his mind reeling in shock.

The unexpected carnage filled him with confusion. His companions, equally stunned, were no different.

“W-What is this all of a sudden?!”

“Blood?! Is this all blood…?!”

“Oh my god…”

The air reeked of iron.

The walls and carpet were stained a sickening shade of red.

Heaps of blood-soaked towels and empty potion bottles littered the floor.

The group couldn’t hide their astonishment.

“What… What is the meaning of this…?”

Their eyes darted around the room, finally settling on a corner of the living room that seemed to be the epicenter of the chaos.

Two figures stood there—two figures who had been concealed in the darkness just moments before.

One was a white-haired girl, frozen in place with bandages clutched in her hands.

The other was a black-haired boy, leaning against the sofa, staring at them with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Saintess…!”

“...Raiden?”

Allen and Margaret murmured, their voices laced with disbelief.

The stench of blood filled their senses.

Lorraine, her face a mixture of guilt and worry, wiped away the beads of sweat forming on her brow.

Raiden, who had been sitting motionlessly, finally parted his lips.

“...Ha.”

A humorless chuckle escaped him.

His dark eyes, which had been staring blankly at the group, began to tremble.

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