Dark Dad’s Rebirth - Chapter 8: Fragment (6)

Her waist and hole were hot. Her body was already exhausted from the rough acts. However, unlike Aria, Caelius didn’t seem that way at all. Aria felt her vision dizzy and tightly closed her eyes. Caelius slowly moved his dick with a squelching sound.

‘I absolutely can’t do this anymore… … .’

Aria’s strength drained from her body, leaving her barely clinging to consciousness, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

Perhaps it was exhaustion. In a small stroke of misfortune turned fortune, she slipped into unconsciousness before he could once again ravage her like a beast.

It was as if she had fallen asleep, teetering on the edge of fainting.

She had all but fainted, succumbing to an exhausted slumber.

Caelius gazed down at Aria’s limp form, his eyes tracing her delicate features before drifting to the place where his length was still buried within her. The tight, narrow entrance clung to him firmly, stretched to its limit, looking strained and overworked.

Gently, he brushed his hand against her cheek. She let out a faint moan, her brow furrowing slightly, as if even in sleep she could feel the lingering discomfort.

Caelius laughed, unable to hide his absurdity at the absurd situation. Then he pulled out his dick, which was still stiff and swollen. When he pulled his dick out, the semen he had poured out inside flowed out in a thick stream.

“Daughter.”

Caelius called her in a calm voice. Of course, there was no answer.

“Riri.”

He didn’t seem particularly expectant of an answer either.

“Aria.”

Aria von Wittelsbach.

If I hadn’t fallen from power, she would have been the one to inherit my position as Bjorn.

With a strange smile on his face, Caelius slowly stroked his cock, which he had pulled out. He carefully stroked the sticky, wet glans, going all the way down to the root and back again.

It wasn’t something he would do while looking at his sleeping daughter.

However, Caelius didn’t show a hint of guilt on his face. He just stroked his own thing while looking at Aria, who had become a mess in pursuit of pleasure.

As he quickly swept his cock a few times, the veins on the shaft became more prominent and swollen.

“Hmph… … .”

As soon as Caelius frowned, cloudy semen was sprayed over Aria’s sleeping body. It splashed everywhere, including her chest, stomach, and vagina.

A face that was tired from crying while covered in her father’s semen.

A satisfied smile appeared on Caelius’ face as he watched Aria.

It was excessively stimulating and ecstatic. He even thought that sex with his own daughter would be enough even without hallucinogens.

If someone found out about their relationship, they would point fingers at them, calling them immoral or crazy. No matter how ignorant Caelius was, he was fully aware of that fact.

Caelius let out a low, indecipherable laugh, one that reeked of something dark and twisted.

If this could still be considered fatherly love, then so be it, he thought. To him, it was just a different kind of parental affection. Otherwise, why would he be so lenient toward someone as seemingly useless as her? There was no other reason for his indulgence.

As he gazed down at Aria’s sleeping form, a familiar voice echoed in his mind once more. Unlike before, the voice was clear, sharp, and free of the headaches that usually accompanied it.

“That throne should have been yours from the beginning, Father.”

“The incompetent, foolish previous emperor.”

Caelius furrowed his brows and closed his eyes, and immediately, Aria’s face surfaced in his thoughts.

The one child who could save him from the disgrace of the Wittelsbach name.

“I’ll make you emperor. No one is more fitting for that throne than you.”

“So, make me your empress.”

* * *

A strange dream unfolded.

Caelius knelt before the former emperor and a young Azecresis, surrounded by countless nobles who watched as if he were a clown on a circus stage.

“The Crown Prince, Caelius von Bjorn, lacks the qualities of a strong and just leader. His nature is cruel and violent, using the divine power of the royal lineage to pursue personal pleasure,” declared the former emperor with an unyielding voice.

Azecresis, looking uncertain and lost, glanced nervously at those around him, while the former emperor continued:

“I, Apedor von Bjorn, hereby decree: as of today, Caelius von Bjorn shall be stripped of all powers bestowed upon the Bjorn royal family.”

Caelius remained silent, his head bowed low. His expression was hidden, but the tightly clenched fists at his sides spoke volumes about his state of mind.

“Swear before the supreme sun that you will relinquish the power of the royal family and never again covet the throne,” the emperor commanded.

The nobles murmured among themselves, while Caelius trembled with anger. He stayed silent for a long time before finally lifting his head, his piercing gaze meeting his father’s.

“Father,” he spoke in a low, resentful tone, his voice laden with bitterness.

Apedor offered no reply.

“Is this truly your decision?” Caelius asked.

His expression was unfamiliar—strange, even. Golden hair that shone like the sun, and golden eyes to match.

I’ll never see that Caelius von Bjorn again, I thought to myself, struck by an odd sense of foreboding.

The emperor’s gaze was cold, so cold it was hard to believe he was looking at his own son. That icy glare said it all: You are not fit to be emperor.

Realizing his father’s decision, Caelius lashed out, his voice filled with rage.

“Do you think I ended up like this because of anyone else but you—!”

His voice cracked, reverberating emptily in the hall. Anguish colored his tone, while fury burned in his words, and his expression showed nothing but raw sorrow.

It was pitiful. Yet not a single person present sympathized with him.

“Cruel and violent?” Caelius barked bitterly. “You, who sent your 12-year-old son to the battlefield, have the audacity to say that?”

Behind the empress, young Azecresis smirked ever so faintly, a smile so subtle it was impossible to tell who it was meant for.

“Caelius von Bjorn, swear your oath!”

Apedor’s voice boomed as he cut Caelius off, his anger evident. Beside him, Azecresis tugged on the emperor’s sleeve, whining, “F-Father, I’m scared.”

It was an unbefitting display for a prince, yet Apedor didn’t chastise him. Instead, he offered a small, apologetic smile, mouthing words that seemed to assure him, Just a little longer.

The sight of the two made Caelius’s lips curl into a bitter sneer.

He had been born a crown prince, carrying the weight of that responsibility from an early age. He had studied the art of kingship as soon as he learned to speak, wielded a sword as soon as he learned to walk, and was thrown into the battlefield before he even became a man.

And now, this was his reward.

Anger consumed him. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. The throne was rightfully his. Azecresis, who had always claimed to have no interest in ruling, was not fit to be emperor.

Hundreds of eyes bore into him, mocking and judging. Caelius wanted nothing more than to draw his sword and carve out the eyes of every noble who looked down on him.

But he was alone, and they were not.

There was no way out.

Caelius bit down hard on his lip, then forced himself to speak, his voice trembling with fury. He let out a dry laugh, glaring coldly at the throne he had once aspired to claim.

“I… swear.”

How high that throne now seemed, so far out of reach.

Caelius vowed to relinquish the powers of the royal family. His voice dripped with venomous anger as he spoke the words.

At that moment, his once-radiant golden hair began to lose its luster, darkening little by little.

The spectacle—something so rare it might only occur once in several centuries—kept the nobles chattering incessantly.

Humiliation, shame, and rage.

Watching it all unfold, even though it was just a dream, Aria felt her own fury boil over.

Azecresis, smirking slyly by Apedor’s side like a cunning fox. Apedor, gazing at Azecresis with a fondness that seemed exclusive to him. The empress, provocatively fanning herself as if she had been waiting for this very moment.

This was the fall of a faded sun, collapsing powerlessly.

Daddy…

She couldn’t understand what the dream was trying to show her. All she knew was that she didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to confront Caelius’s past in such a brutal way.

In the end, as Caelius lost all his power, he looked at Apedor and Azecresis with pitch-black eyes.

“You’ll regret this,” he said.

His gaze was filled with a fanatical obsession for the throne.

Suddenly, something surfaced in her memory.

A fragment of text, something she had read in a book long before she had found herself in this world:

—Sociopaths don’t feel fear and have limited capacity for empathy, but they have an intense sense of ownership and obsession. To achieve their goals, they’re willing to sacrifice anything, even the lives of others.

—Never let yourself become their target.

* * *

It was a dream. Surely just a dream.

Yet, as Aria woke, she felt dampness on her cheeks.

‘What… did I cry?’

Panicking, she hurriedly tried to wipe her tears, only for someone else’s hand to gently do it for her. Blinking in surprise, her hazy vision gradually cleared, revealing Caelius gazing at her with a peculiar smile.

“Did you have a bad dream, my dear?”

The sight of him, smiling softly, instantly brought the Caelius from her dream to mind. The tears she had barely held back began to well up again.

Biting her lip and clenching her fists tightly, Aria tried to suppress her emotions.

The Caelius in her dream had been so different from the man before her now. Back then, he had seemed unrefined, unable to control his emotions, with a youthful, almost boyish expression. Most striking of all, his hair and eyes were a radiant gold, gleaming like the sun itself.

Even though Caelius as he was now possessed an undeniable charm, the golden-haired version of him had looked truly regal—like a man born to be the sun.

Aria didn’t understand the surge of emotions welling up within her, what they represented, or what they sought. Locking eyes with Caelius again, she suddenly heard the echo of a voice in her mind:

“I am not merely a sword of the empire.”

It was a fierce declaration, yet the voice sounded exhausted, worn down.

“I am the master of the empire, the empire’s one and only sun. The emperor.”

The voice dripped with madness, yet its conviction was undeniable.

“I am Caelius von Bjorn.”

The moment he reclaimed Bjorn.

In that moment, I’ll stand beside you.

Daddy must… become emperor.

The thought came unbidden. Aria froze as the unfamiliar idea took root in her mind.

She had wished for him to abandon rebellion, to pursue peace. She had longed for a quiet, conflict-free life.

‘So why am I thinking this now…?’

A sudden urge arose—to place a golden crown upon Caelius’s raven-black hair.

To tell him that he was no fallen sun, but still noble, still radiant.

The tears threatening to fall baffled her, her own emotions incomprehensible. Facing Caelius stirred something deep within her—a painful churning of grief, anger, and indignation.

She felt resentment toward the former emperor who had cast him aside, and she didn’t care to understand Azecresis or Apedor’s perspectives. All she felt was a deep, instinctive sorrow for Caelius.

Perhaps it was nothing more than cheap, superficial pity.

“Father…”

Her voice wavered with unspoken tears as she called to him.

Caelius tilted his head, looking at her with a mix of curiosity and concern, as though wondering if he had pushed her too hard the day before.

“…I love you,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute.

Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar wave of emotions, Aria hurriedly buried herself in his chest.

Startled by her sudden action, Caelius widened his eyes briefly but said nothing, gently patting her back instead.

“Daddy loves you too.”

A lie.

“…Really?”

“Yes.”

His words carried not a trace of sincerity.

“Then… am I special to you, Daddy? Even for just a moment… have I ever been special?”

A foolish question. A question the original Aria might have asked.

Why am I asking such pathetic things?

“You’re always special, Riri.”

She knew. Every whispered word from Caelius was nothing but a lie.

She knew that the moment the original Aria’s feelings fully consumed her and she fell in love with him, she would become nothing more than a tool—a scarecrow used to fuel his rebellion, a doll discarded cruelly when no longer needed.

And yet, she couldn’t stop the flood of emotions surging through her.

‘Damn this emotional synchronization…’

Even the faint scent emanating from him, the steady rhythm of his hand patting her back, and the tender murmur of his voice—they all made her heart race uncontrollably.

What if I’m consumed entirely by the original Aria’s emotions?

The thought scared her. Or perhaps, she had been slowly unraveling ever since she first encountered Caelius in this world.